


In the Pale Moonlight

by andrea_readwolf



Series: A Matter of Heart: Dance of the Heart Arc [5]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2001-04-11
Updated: 2001-10-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 07:22:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 103,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18425718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrea_readwolf/pseuds/andrea_readwolf
Summary: "In the Pale Moonlight" is the third story in the 'Dance of the Heart' story arc and will cover the time period between Episode 49 and/through Endless Waltz.This is the Sequel to "Dance With the Devil" and represents Part 3 in the DANCE OF THE HEART Arc. The action picks up hours after Heero blows up the last falling chunk of Libra and continues up to the events in Endless Waltz.





	1. Act 1

**Author's Note:**

> Pairings: Established 3+4 (4x3), Establishing: 1+2 (2x1) Implied: 2+5 (5x2), 1+5 (1x5), 1+3 (3x1), 2+H (Hx2), 1+H? (1xH???), 6+9, 6+13, 13+5, 1+R (at least in her mind ^_^;;), R+D, 9+S, 11+S
> 
> Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and its characters belong to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency and are only being used for non-profit entertainment purposes.

**Part 3 of the Dance of the Heart Arc, A Matter of Heart Series by Andrea Readwolf**

30-Jan-2001 to 16-May-2001

"In the Pale Moonlight" is the third story in the 'Dance of the Heart' story arc and will cover the time period between Episode 49 and/through Endless Waltz.

 

### Act One Part 1 

 

He managed to convince the meds that he was fine-no damage done, in perfect health, etc. etc. etc.-and, after a series of insisted upon tests, they finally had to give in and let him go. He was five feet from the exit when he overheard three of the nurses at their station.

"Where did you want these?"

"What? Oh, those. They need to go to 134."

"Winner?"

"Yep. That's the one."

"Is he really as cute as they say he is?"

"Screw that! Is he rich and single? *That's* the question!"

"As if that matters! You're old enough to be his mother!"

"What's going on here? Those bags need to be places girls! We've got a lot of injured people here! No time for gossiping!"

The trio of women dissipated and Heero backtracked to follow the small brunette with the IV bags. He waited outside the room she entered, noting the other people in the hallways and other rooms. He had been surprised when he entered MOII. Maybe he'd just been in 'mission mode' so long, living like a terrorist and outlaw that he'd entered the space station with expectations of Oz.

Another fortress like Barge or Libra. A floating military base. Something like that would have been in character of the military organization he'd been sent to Earth to annihilate. Finding instead a large mobile medical satellite pique his opinion of the Oz leader. 'Former Oz leader,' his mind reminded him.

Trieze Khushrenada was dead. Died at the hands of a Gundam pilot. Pilot 05, Chang Wufei.

"Wufei."

"Excuse me?"

Heero looked up, realizing the nurse had come out of the room and was looking at him. "Nothing," he said and let her flit away to her next patient.

Now as he entered the medical room, Heero received another surprise. Coming out of the battle nearly unscratched, he'd assumed everyone else had made out almost as well if not better than him. Seeing the blonde boy who so naturally radiated with what Duo had described as "good vibes" attached to several bits of machinery was a bit more than just 'unnerving'.

"What happened?" he asked, looking over to the tall, green-eyed pilot of 03.

"Dorothy Catalonia," Trowa answered, untangling his fingers from Quatre's unconscious hand. He stood and joined the Japanese boy at the door to the room. "She was in the control room of the mobile dolls," he explained. "She was controlling the mobile dolls."

Trowa looked back at the sleeping boy on the bed. "He didn't want to fight her, of course. She insisted."

"Where is she now?"

"I don't know." Trowa turned back to the bed and sat back down beside Quatre, taking up his hand again.

Heero hesitated, but entered the room. "Is he going to be okay?" he asked, studying the three lines dancing across one of the screens that indicated pulse rate, the amount of oxygen in the blood, and blood pressure.

"Fine," Trowa returned, a bit insistent. "He's just sleeping right now," he added, tracing his fingers over Quatre's palm and knuckles. "The blade went straight through, puncturing."

Heero remained silent, observing the boy and his lover, at a loss for words to say.

"He's going to be just fine," Trowa finished off. "Good as new in a couple of weeks."

Heero reached out, sliding his hand over the taller boy's shoulder and squeezing. "You gonna stay?" he asked finally.

Trowa didn't say anything for a minute, staring at the bed, and then he looked up. "Yeah," he said, nodding. "For a little bit. At least till he's better." He swallowed and cleared his throat. "What about you? What do you have planned now?"

Heero shrugged. "Don't know. Have that money put aside, courtesy of OZ and Romafeller." He shrugged again. "Figured I might get an apartment someplace."

Trowa nodded, looking back to the bed. "That's as good a plan as any, I guess."

"What about you? You plan on going back to the circus?"

He was quiet, studying the face of the golden prince before him. "Yeah, I guess," Trowa said finally before looking back up at Heero. "I mean, it's someplace, right?"

"Right."

The two fell into a comfortable silence, each lost to his own thoughts as they watched Quatre sleep.

"He's here," Trowa broke the silence minutes later.

"Hn?" Heero looked away from the bed to study the other boy.

"Duo," Trowa clarified. "I saw him when I was looking for Quatre. Apparently that girl of his is here too." Trowa looked up at him then. "He's three doors down," he said, nodding his head in that direction. "He went to be with her. You should go to him."

Trowa turned back to Quatre, as if to ignore Heero. He studied the two boys, staring at Trowa's hands as they moved back and forth over Quatre's hand. And then, without another word, he turned and left the room.

He found himself in front of the room, three doors down from Quatre's. Tentatively he pushed the door open and peeked in. His throat, chest, and stomach clenched as the sight registered in his mind.

There were two bodies in the room: Duo's and that girl's, Hilde's. There was only one bed; two chairs sat off against the wall, unused. The Gundam pilot had crawled up into bed with the still unconscious girl and was wrapped around her, curled around her head, his head and face pressed against her head and face as he held her.

Heero swallowed and backed out of the room before he could disturb the other pilot. He backed down the hallway, by-passing the room Quatre and Trowa were in without stopping, by-passing the nurses' station without hearing their buzzing tongues wagging, exiting the wing, following one of the painted lines on the floor.

Purple, he realized after the other colored lines fed off in different directions. He was following the purple line. He stopped then and there and somebody pushed past him, mumbling an apology as he entered the door to his right. Smoke, laughter, a bit of music, and the stench of alcohol wafted out of the room, encircling Heero, pulling him in.

And then, with a bit of surprise, the Japanese boy found himself standing inside a bar, staring at the dark interior. The music he heard was a bit of jazz and blues drifting up out of an old-styled jukebox. The smoke was a filtered mist supplied by air ducts that was supposed to add to the atmosphere of the place. Heero just grunted and made his way to the bar.

There weren't that many people in here, but there was enough to keep the air filled with chatter and laughter. Celebrators, he thought, shifting up onto the stool and staring off at the many bottles lining the back wall.

"Hey kid! Ain't you a bit young to be in here?" a voice broke into his solitude.

Instinct had him reaching for his gun, habit had him already pulling in when the OZ insignia on the bartender's uniform flashed. A hand on his shoulder and a familiar voice were the only things that saved the man his life.

"Is that the gratitude you show to the man who saved your family and home?" A glass slapped down on the bar top, the amber liquid inside splashing around.

"Wufei.."

"Fancy meeting you here," the Chinese pilot replied, climbing up onto the bar stool next to him.

"What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same thing of you." Wufei looked at the tumbler full of whiskey and shot the remaining, slapping the empty glass back down and signaling for another. "I," he told the newcomer, "am celebrating the end of all war." He watched as the bartender refilled his glass. "You?"

"I don't know."

"He'll have the same," he told the bartender. "Oh hell! Just leave the damn bottle."

"Got the credits?"

Wufei looked like he was ready to throw a tantrum right then and there. Heero pulled out a card key and handed it to the man while Wufei snatched up both bottle and glass and hopped off the stool.

"Ungrateful wretch!" he grumbled. "C'mon. I've got a table over here."

Heero retrieved his card from the bartender, snatched up his own glass, and followed the Altron pilot to the back corner of the room. Wufei tipped the bottle, filling both his glass and Heero's before the other boy could slide into a seat.

"What is it?" he asked, eyeing the ginger liquid.

"Whiskey." Seeing the other's dubious look, he added, "It won't kill you, you know."

"Hn." Heero took the glass and shot the contents down, gasping and then coughing as the fiery liquid burned its way down his throat to pool like a pit of lava in his stomach. "Uah! How can you drink this stuff?"

Wufei smirked. "It tastes like shit," he said, "But it won't kill ya." Wufei was already refilling their glasses. "I thought you would be with the others, celebrating this grand and glorious event."

"Hn. The others are all in the medical wing." Wufei shot him a look and he decided to elaborate. "Quatre was injured, apparently fighting Dorothy; Trowa's with him."

Wufei frowned. "Dorothy?"

Heero took another sip of his whiskey and grimaced. "A friend of Relena's. Meet her in Sank. Apparently she was controlling the mobile dolls for Zechs."

"Hn. Interesting." Wufei took a swallow of his own. "And what about Duo? Why aren't you with him?"

"He's with the girl."

"Hilde?" Heero nodded. "I take it she hasn't waken up yet, then." Heero shook his head and with another 'hn', Wufei threw back another swallow of the burning liquid. "You know," he said, gasping, "He's gonna blame himself if something happens to her. He holds himself responsible. I guess you could say he's like me, blaming himself for the actions of headstrong women."

"You blame yourself?" Heero asked, fingering his glass as he stared at the Chinese boy.

"Hn." Wufei stared at his drink. "It was my fault she died," he confided softly.

Cobalt eyes narrowed. "Who?"

"Merien." Wufei leaned back against the booth and pulled out a small wallet, flipping it open for the Japanese boy to see. "Merien," he repeated, allowing Heero to take the picture.

It was a full body portrait of a pretty young Chinese girl-probably in her preteens-dressed in a red and white wrap dress. Piles of dark hair were tied back in buns and wraps, white flowers laced through the black silk. Looking closer, Heero could discern the detail of the dress-white birds flying, blending, metamorphosizing into red blossoms. Large, dark, wide set eyes were painted with kohl, wide cheeks darkened with a light rouge, lips stained with a cherry coloring. The over all effect was very beautiful.

"Pretty," Heero acknowledged, handing the picture back to its owner.

"My wife," Wufei countered, fingering the image's face before tossing back the rest of his drink and pouring himself another glass. He looked up, seeing Heero's somewhat stunned expression and smirked, taking another sip.

"We were married when we were both twelve; it was an arranged marriage, betrothal from birth. Let's just say our clans rested a lot of weight on our union," Wufei explained before sipping from his glass again. "We didn't love each other, that didn't matter much. But we. respected each other." He rubbed his eyes and nose, sounding very drained all of a sudden. "Yeah, respect, at least, in our own ways."

"What happened?" Heero asked after a moment of silence.

Wufei sighed, tilting his head to the side as he stared down at the picture. "We had. different views of life." He smiled. "She was a warrior, a true warrior. Not like me. It was in her spirit to fight for justice." His smile grew constricted. "She used to yell at me. Yell at me to get my nose out of whatever damn book I was taken up with at the time. Tell me to get my head out of the damn clouds and pay attention to what was happening in the real world."

Heero didn't say anything, didn't know what to say, and so the silence stretched out between the two until Wufei's voice broke through again.

"I. didn't want to fight. I never asked to be a gundam pilot," he admitted. "It was just. expected of me. No one asked me what *I* wanted." He continued to finger the photograph. "I think Master O knew that. understood how I felt about the whole situation."

He looked up, seeing that Heero was still paying attention and somewhat. relieved to finally be able to tell this to someone else.

"He was making two mobile suits," he confided. "I think he knew I had no intention of coming down to Earth when it was time. Merien would have jumped at the chance to come here. She would go on and on about what an honor it was to fight for our clans and protect our families." He frowned. "I agreed with her, of course. I just didn't want the honor."

"How did she."

"Die?" Wufei finished, folding the wallet and putting it away. His face grew cold and he topped off his glass. "They Alliance decided my colony was no longer worthy and sent a task force to annihilate everyone. Merien jumped into Shiren before I could stop her and went off to fight them. I was too slow. I was too slow to stop her and too slow to save her. By the time I made it to Shenlong and then to her. it was too late. She defeated the bastards, though. Sent them running home with their tails between their tails."

He tossed back the entire tumbler-full of whiskey. "She died in my arms." he whispered, staring at the empty glass.

"You loved her."

"She was my wife," he countered.

"You loved her.?"

"As much as you can love a person you both hate and admire." Wufei responded, his eyes closing shut.

"Do you love Duo?"

Wufei's head snapped up, eyes blinking. Finally, he smirked and gave a little laugh. "Is that what brought you to my table, Yuy?"

"Do you?"

"Yes." Wufei fell forward onto the table, leaning down onto his folded arms. "Do you?"

Heero paused, taken back by first the answer and then the question, and then answered honestly. "I don't know."

"What does this tell you?" Wufei asked, stretching an arm across the table to touch Heero's chest. "Right here," he emphasized, tapping the center of his chest with a finger. "What does it tell you?"

Heero was quiet. Wufei pulled back, nodding. "Hn. You shouldn't be here. You should be up there with him."

"He's with Hilde."

"He needs your support. Especially if she doesn't pull through. He's going to need you even more." Wufei shook his head. "You don't belong in this lonely place, Heero Yuy. You have someplace to go to."

"No. I have no place to go," Heero denied.

"Yes. Yes, you do," Wufei insisted. "You have Duo, whether you're ready to admit it or not. You still have your colony. Hell! You even have that princess of yours-if you really want her."

"Relena."

"Hn. That's the one," Wufei grimaced. Heero smiled, and then grew neutral.

"She's going to be too busy now for me to be hanging around," Heero said, sounding a bit lost. "I'd only be a distraction to her, preventing her from doing the work she needs to do-"

"Then go back to your colony!" Wufei offered. "It's still spinning, isn't it?"

Heero frowned. "I have no colony."

Wufei mimicked the frown. "I though you were from Lagrange 1."

"Hn. That's where Dr. J's labs were."

Wufei puzzled that. "And before that?"

"I lived from day to day with Odin-" Heero's frown took the hint of something. pain? Wufei wondered. "Until he died. And then J found me."

"When was that?" Wufei asked, his voice soft.

Heero shrugged, and for a moment it didn't look like he was going to answer. And then he did. "When I was nine."

Wufei swallowed. When he was nine. he'd just discovered the ancient's personal library and made the decision to read every tomb. He was never given the chance to finish. he would never be given the chance to finish. "Who was Odin?"

"The man who I lived with before Dr. J," Heero answered, his face falling neutral, stoic.

"You father?"

"No," Heero answered immediately, suredly. And then his face puzzled and he shook his head. "At least, he never said so; never referred to himself as such. " Heero shrugged. "But he's as close to a father as I guess I could say I've ever had."

Wufei nodded, remembering his own father. when was the last time he told the man he'd loved him.? Wufei shook his head; it was too late for those things now. "What happened to him? I mean, how did he die?"

"He was shot," Heero answered like it was the most natural thing in the world. Then, seeing Wufei's look for more, he added, "We were on a mission."

"Mission?" Wufei's frown returned in force. 'On a mission? And only 9 years old?'

"He was an assassin-the best," Heero replied with just a hint of pride. "He taught me everything he could about guns and defense, and first aid and self-care." A small smirk played at the Japanese boy's lips. "I learned how to hold a gun when I was four; how to disable one, clean it, put it back together; how to aim, shoot, fire; where weakest points on the body were, the strongest; how to use your body as a weapon; how to stay alive even when the odds were against you; reiki-"

"Reiki?" Wufei interrupted.

Heero nodded. "It's a. form of. energy healing," he tried to explain.

"Yes," Wufei nodded. "I'm familiar with it." He smiled at Heero's look. "It's an ancient form of Japanese healing, predating even the first Middle Age-and not unlike many of the methods used by some of the Chinese."

"The Chinese and the Japanese are much alike," Wufei added after a moment.

"We're *all* much alike," Heero countered. They stared at each other for a minute or two, and then stared off into nothing, letting the slow thrum of the music dance around them, between them, within them; letting the misty air swirl across them, encasing them in their own little worlds.

"And Dr. J?" Wufei asked finally.

Heero looked back to the Chinese boy, and then shrugged. "Trained me," he answered.

"Train."

"I remember, the first thing Dr. J did, when he took me to his labs, was run test after test." Heero looked off over Wufei's shoulder, sipping from his whiskey, which Wufei kept filled for him. "I'd never been to a doctor before. A hospital, a couple of times when Odin was sent to finish a job, but, I'd never actually *been* to a doctor. Odin or one of the team, always fixed each other up: set broken bones, removed bullets. patch yourself up and live to work another day. If you get sick, you go to bed and heal yourself. To go from that. to. to Dr. J's staff was just. I wasn't sure of what they wanted, so I just did what they asked.

"Piss in a cup, sure. Take some blood, okay. Run on this treadmill until you're told to stop? Hn. Push ups, sit-ups, weights, targets. Easy stuff. I'd never taken an actually written test before then, you know that? I remember when they brought me into what was dubbed 'the school room' one day and sat me down at the desk in the room with a pen, a pencil, and a large packet of paper."

Heero snorted, his eyes refocusing on Wufei. The Chinese pilot was leaned over the table again, listening intently to the other boy's narrative. It made Heero feel kinda good, knowing that there was someone who was actually interesting in listening to something he had to say.

"What happened? You didn't know how to read?" At the glare the Japanese boy shot him, he reworded his question. "How'd you do on the test?"

Heero snorted again. "It was easy stuff-once I figured out what they were trying to ask me. The first test I took was a basic vocabulary test. It was strange, because it was the first time I was seeing some of the words. I knew how to read, of course-it helps being able to read if you're going to communicate with other people in a team. But when you're running silent, you don't use big vocabulary words and such, you know?

"The next test they gave me was a mathematical examination-filled with geometry and easy algebraic equations. Then they gave me another. and another. and another. It took me a couple of times to realize they were giving me variations of same of the same tests, some in different languages. Then I got mad 'cause I realized that they weren't just *asking* me what I knew, they were treating me like some. thing."

Heero shrugged. "I learned a lot more book stuff with Dr. J, I guess you could say. I 'honed' the skills Odin taught me. and I learned how to pilot." He nodded. "But it wasn't exactly the best years of my life, you know?"

Wufei nodded, murmuring. "I remember when Master O came to our colony. It was like he was searching for something. someone; traveling from colony to colony, visiting all the clans. Looking. The clans were all excited when he arrived at our colony; a huge celebration was held. I remember how excited and pleased my family was when he chose to stay with our clan and how eager everyone was to please him. I was young, I don't know how young. Maybe four or five, and I didn't fully understand what his purpose for being there was, but I was thirsty for knowledge and I used to always follow him around. He used to talk to me like I wasn't a child, like I was. almost an equal, and he would discuss complex equations with me. I wasn't picky. I wanted to learn and to know everything.

"Supplies were not easy to come by on my colony-it wasn't like we were the richest clan in the L5 cluster-but we were a proud people. The gundanium was, of course, harder to get a hand on, which is why Sheren, the first suit he made was of mostly titanium. She wasn't nearly as resilient as Shenlong; not enough to save Merien."

They lapsed into another spell of silence, each boy remembering thoughts of an existence that no longer belonged to them, closed off forever in the past. They continued to sip from their drinks until Wufei reached out to refill their glasses and only a few precious drops tumbled free from the bottle.

"Hn. We seem to be out of drink," Wufei observed.

"Hn. So it seems." Heero yawned. "What time is it anyway?"

"Um." Wufei frowned, looking for a time display somewhere in the smoky room. None was to be found. "Good question," he answered, rubbing his face. "We should probably turn in."

"I'll carry you if you carry me?" Heero offered. They smiled, their shoulders shaking, and then each boy gave a tiny, startled bark of laughter.

"C'mon, hero, I've had more to drink than you!" Wufei tiltered to his feet and looked around him. "Any idea of how to get out of this place?"

"We could always just blast a hole through the wall."

Wufei shot him a look. "I don't think the management would appreciate that very much."

Heero shrugged. "He overcharged us."

"Hn. Point." Wufei paused. "You have anything?"

"No," Heero frown. "Left it in ZERO. I guess the exit will have to do."

Wufei stumbled forward. "Exit it is."

"How many drinks did you have before I got here?" Heero asked, catching the Chinese pilot before he could stumble over into his face.

"I don't know," Wufei admitted, shooting a smile towards Heero. "I lost count 'round two."

Heero just snorted and the two began making their way towards the exit. "Any idea where we're supposed to sleep?"

"Hmm. 'nother good question." Wufei tried to stand up on his own outside the bar, and found that his head was distinctively light. "Nope. Haven't got a clue."

"Hn. Well," Heero looked at him. "We could always crash in our suits."

Wufei groaned. "Uh un. I don't know you if you've noticed this or not, but those seats weren't exactly made with our comfort in mind."

They started stumbling down the corridor, with no direction in mind. "Hn. I've noticed." The two war heroes were saved from the horrible fate of sleeping in their gundams by the fortune of running into Howard some odd minutes later.

"Oiya! Boys! Where ya goin'? The party's that away!" The old man had taken one good look at the two teenaged pilots before coming to the conclusion the both of them had already participated in the celebration as much as they were going to for the night. It had taken a bit of muscling-especially when Heero slid to the floor and refused to get up, saying he was going to sleep right there and the Ozies could be damned-but the wizened old man managed to get both boys settled into the bed in the quarters assigned to him.

"Here, drink up," he ordered both of them, shoving a glass under the noses.

"Gah, what is it?" Heero asked, pulling away before taking the glass away from him.

"Water," Howard replied. "Don't worry, it won't kill ya."

Heero gave an accusatoinatory glace to his neighbor. "Where have I heard that before?"

Wufei finished his glass, flopping back into the mattress and mumbled a reply. "You're still alive, aren't you? So quick whining like a woman."

"Hn," was the only answer he was graced by as Heero followed suit and fell back into the bed.

"Get some sleep, and if I was you, I'd sleep through the morning," Howard advised, pulling out of the room and hitting the light. He stopped in the frame of the door though, turning to look back at them. "And, in case I didn't say it before, good job, guys," he said in a soft whispery voice. Two murmured and mumbled voices rose up from the bed before the door could slide shut behind him.

  It was another ten minutes of silence with only the thrumming of the large space station around them, each boy caught in his own drink-induced stupor of thoughts. And then Heero's voice, muddled and hoarse, broke through the silence.

"What was it like.?" he asked, staring up at the darkened ceiling.

"What was what like.?" Wufei returned, shifting in his state of almost-but-not-quite-there sleep.

"Touching him," Heero answered, his voice just a whisper.

Two black eyes blinked open, adjusting to the darkened shadows even as he turned to look at the other boy in bed with him. Out of all the questions. "What?" was the only response he could give.

Heero turned then too, shifting onto his side, blue eyes dark in the shadows of the room, looking almost as dark as Wufei's own as they stared out at him. "What was it like," Heero repeated, "to touch him.?"

"Wh-who.?" Wufei's voice hitched, already knowing the answer but hoping to avoid the subject. There would only ever be one "He" between them.

"Duo." Heero's voice sounded like a sigh to him and Wufei found he couldn't keep his eyes open, couldn't look at him, at the expression on that face. Even in the darkened room that wasn't quite pitch black, that face haunted him. The longing, the pain, the desire. that face, freed from its long-held-to mask. Was the mask broken? Why did the other boy remove it now? Why in front of him?

"Like heaven," Wufei answered after a moment. Something brushed against his cheek and two obsidian orbs blinked open, surprised. Wufei swallowed, Heero 's knuckled grazing back over his cheek again. "He felt like heave."

Tentatively, he reached out, his fingers brushing against Heero's shoulders before traveling down that extended arm. "Soft," he whispered, his palm cupping up around the sleek muscles, powerful, strong, in those arms. "Hard," he added as his fingers and palm slid closer to home until they slipped over Heero's wrist and hand, taking it, turning it; Wufei kissed Heero's palm. "Callused."

Heero's breath hitched in his chest and then he groaned, his eyes shutting tight against the image of Wufei kissing his palm. He felt his body tighten and his mind reel. It had been six months. Six months since he'd last touched a human being like this, felt the stir in his blood, and the rise of need with a body so close by, touching him. He knew it was wrong; he knew he shouldn't be doing this, but a part of him didn't care. A part of him wanted desperately to touch, to feel, to exalt in the feeling of another person against his body, reminding him that he wasn't alone, was still alive.

Wufei's tongue darted out and swiped at the center of Heero's palm, pulling back with the hint of tanginess, the scent of gundanium alloy, leather, grease, and a natural musk wafting up around him, intoxicating him more than the bottle of whiskey ever could. It was that sense of danger that surrounded the other boy, that infused itself into every situation, that appealed to him. Called to him, dared and taunted him. A challenge he couldn't refuse.

Wufei's fingers laced into Heero's, pulling on the arm until the binded fists rested on the pillow beside Wufei's head, succeeding in bringing Heero's body closer. He knew this was wrong, knew it was probably just the whiskey in his blood, making him hot, making him need, making him weak. He dove into that excuse, relishing in the freedom it gave him as he leaned up and kissed Heero.

Heero surprised him. He hadn't expected the other boy to react so forcefully, not only kissing him back but pressing him back into the bed, forcing his lips open, his mouth to open for the Japanese boy's tongue as his body seemed to surge up and over him, pressing Wufei completely back into the bed.

Both boys groaned, moving against each other in an attempt to bank the fires racing through their blood-but only succeeded in feeding the flames. Wufei tore his lips away from Heero as a cry tore from his throat, his frustration, his need to feel whole. Heero bent over him, his mouth seizing over Wufei's bare shoulder where the scampy tank top didn't cover, and bit down hard against the caramel skin. Wufei screamed, jumping beneath him. Heero's hips thrust against him, pressing him back into the mattress. Wufei squeeze his eyes shut, ignoring the tears as Heero lapped at his abused shoulder. His arms wound round tight against Heero's chest and torso, to hold the other to him. It wasn't enough.

Heero pulled back; Wufei cried, distressed. A moment of fear and trepidation passed over him as Heero's hands began to tug at his white pants. It came and passed and came again a minute later when he laid completely naked as the other boy hovered above him, in a similar state of undress as well. Heero's head dipped, his tongue pressing into Wufei's mouth. Wufei welcomed it, craved it, sucked on it as Heero's hips came crashing down into his with fierce-some pressure, causing him to moan around the invading tongue. Heero's erection dug into his, trapped between their two bodies as their hips rocked against each other. Wufei's arms and legs managed to wrap themselves around Heero's body, holding them closer together.

The tensing of the muscles above him was the little warning given to him before his world rocked, tilted, turned over, and Wufei found himself moving over Heero as the other pilot rolled under him, changing their positions, causing Wufei to fall onto Heero, grounding their erections together with even more force than before. Wufei gave a startled cry, pulling back, falling back as the full length of Heero's penis moved beneath the underside of his own, teasing the sensitive skin of his most private areas. Wufei could feel the head of the other's penis, right *there*, moving back and forth over his opening with ever thrust of their hips and the fear from minutes before returned full force.

Hands moved up over his chest, smoothing down the planes and contours. Beneath him, Heero's moans and groans reverberating through his chest and torso, humming between Wufei's thighs. The sight of Heero, beneath him like that, head thrown back, muscles cording, straining, tensing. hard. sleek. sexy as hell.

The hole inside of him seemed to swell, to engulf him, and Wufei wanted to scream with his frustration, his pain, his uncontrollable need. He'd never. but he wanted to. He wanted this man. He wanted him inside him. Trembling fingers wrapped around the foreign penis-similar, yet different, his mind registered. Bigger than him-and squeezed, coaxed. Beneath him, Heero became even more vocal than before, moving against Wufei's hands, taking as much as he was willing to give.

So lost in his mindless haze of feeling, he didn't pay attention to what the other pilot was doing until he felt the tight, dry sheath of skin tug against him as Wufei dropped his hips, swallowing Heero's entire length inside himself. The scream that tore through the room was choked off at the throat as Wufei threw his head back, back arched, eyes squeezed shut against the streaming tears. Heero held absolutely still, torn between two warring desires: The first, to plummet into the boy, to fuck him long and hard. The second to not move, not hurt the boy any more.

Wufei shifted on his knees, embedding Heero's penis deeper inside of himself. It hurt. It hurt so damn bad. Worse than the time he'd fallen off the roof and broken his arm. Worse that being banged and battered around the cockpit of a mobile suit. Worse than anything his mind and young body had every experienced. But, beneath that hurt was something else. the delicious feel of being filled. a. warped pleasure the pain brought on. It felt good. It felt so damn good.

He moved again, raising up so only the tip of Heero's penis remained inside his body. And then he fell down, grinding his hips against Heero's as hard as he could. Both boys cried out, arched in a tangle of pain and pleasure. A second passed, filled with nothing but the heavy, panted breaths and their own sensations of pain and pleasure, before they looked at each other. A beat. A heartbeat. And then they moved, thrusting against one another, their bodies demanding, taking, giving, screaming for. for. for something. Something more than just a sexual release. Maybe even more than just a stress release.

They shifted again and again. At one moment Wufei straddling Heero, then, the next, Heero surging over Wufei, grounding him back into the mattress as their sweaty stomachs and chests pressed against each other. And then again on their sides, pushing, pulling against the other, their wills clashing, clanging, banging, fucking, kissing, understanding, loving, forgiving.

Until each was too exhausted to do more than moan and succumb to the sleep that had been courting them for hours now.

In the morning cycle, when Heero finally managed to drag his mind back to consciousness-and his body with it-the space beside him was cold. The bed empty. If it weren't for the blood and semen stains that covered both the sheets and his penis, he would have thought the entire incident a dream.

It took him only fifteen minutes to shower and redress in his clothes from before-and ten of those minutes were dedicated towards stretches and stomach crunches. It wasn't hard to find the medical wing he'd been in the previous night; the purple line and numerous signs posted up at every juncture helped show him the way. It was another fifteen minutes, however, before he arrived.

He'd intended to stop by Quatre's room again, but somehow found himself in front of the door three down instead, his palm pressing up against the swinging door to press it open. Looking in with a sense of trepidation and resolution, Heero felt his chest clench and his stomach flare.

Duo was still on the bed, still cradling the girl, but this time he was awake, whispering to the girl, so low that Heero couldn't even make out the words. He must have made a sound however, because Duo looked up startled, and saw him.

"I'm sorry," the Japanese boy fumbled, immediately beginning to pull the door shut. "I'll leave you two alone-"

"Heero! No, wait!" Duo called, scrambling to his feet. The door cracked back open and the dark-haired boy hovered a bit in the doorway, clearly torn between staying or leaving.

"Listen," Duo began, moistening his lips. "Hilde's got this place back on L2. It's nothing big, but it's a, uh, it's a house. You know, three bedrooms, two baths, a kitchen and a TV room. Nice. Real homey like. Anyway, she's all alone there. You know, no family and all, and I was thinking of maybe moving back in with her there, maybe starting up a little business-you know, nothing fancy. Just some salvage work. I know that. I' m good at it, and maybe take up a few classes at the local college. And I was thinking, you know, if you've got nothing much planned or anything, maybe you'd like to stay with me. With us, I mean. Back on L2. At the house."

Suddenly the tirade of chatter stopped, dropping the two boys into an intense moment, each staring at the other expectantly.

"Auh, who am I kiddin'? You probably already have something planned for yourself-"

"No," Heero whispered hoarsely, swallowing. The single syllable managed to deaden Duo's voice and the braided boy turned back, a hopeful glint sparkling in his violet eyes, mixed with a tinge of fear. "I.-wasn't. supposed to survive the war," Heero continued after a moment, his voice halty. "I have nothing now."

Duo swallowed, taking an involuntary step closer to the boy in the doorway. "You could." he offered, holding his hand up and out towards Heero. "I'd be kinda lonesome without my partner, you know."

Heero stared at the hand and then shifted just inside the door, leaning back against it until it clicked shut. And then he stepped further into the room until he was standing before Duo's hands. He reached out, his fingers hovering inches away from Duo's.

"I'd like that." he whispered, his dark blue eyes darting up to meet with Duo's.

Duo grinned, closing the gap and sliding his hand into Heero's, squeezing in a firm handshake. "Then we stay partners," he whispered back. He turned away, clearing his throat loudly. "Good then," he continued at his normal, loud, volume. "I assume you won't have a problem getting us some legal-looking GED's 'cause I'm telling ya man, if I have to deal with another one of those crummy, know-it-all high schools, I'm gonna give up on this whole formal education gig for good!"

His rain of chatter fell silent again as he stared down at the occupant of the bed.

"Look at her," he called back to his partner. "She's pretty well banged up, ain't she? Worse than I've ever seen you, even."

Duo leaned forward, propping his arms up against the sidebars. One hand reached out and brushed silky black bangs away from the girl's ashen face. "She's a good kid. Brave. Smart." He shot a grin back to Heero who had come up beside him. "Stubborn. Won't take no for an answer."

"I'm sure you two will be happy together." Heero almost choked over the words, trying to get them out. Thankfully, Duo didn't seem to notice.

"Hn. I doubt that," Duo shot back, qworking a smile. "We'd have fun together, don't get me wrong. But I'm not the type of guy she needs. And really, she's not my type at all. She's gonna make some guy very lucky though." He smirked. "At least up until the honeymoon's over. Then she's going to make his life a living hell!"

"You. and her. aren't." Heero seemed to have trouble with the words, but luckily, Duo seemed to know what he was getting at.

"A couple?" He stood up, turning around to lean back on the bed-a position that also provided him with a better view of a certain boy. "Nah. We're just not each other's types. Tell you the truth, I kinda like to think of her as, like, my adoptive sister or something. Family, you know? Sort of like how I think of you and the others." He looked down at the sleeping girl, thinking, 'an incestuous family, but a family.'

"Oh."

"Hey, listen," Duo pushed away from the bed. "Don't go too far away, okay? When she wakes up and gets a clean bill of health, I'd like to get up off of this place. Get back to L2 and get back to work. Don't want to be inactive too long, you know?"

"I'll be in my room when you're ready," Heero replied, moving for the door.

"Cool. Hey, Heero?" Duo called, turning from the small window. "Thanks for agreeing."

Heero studied him for a minute, and then nodded. "Thanks for asking," he managed to say before slipping out the door with a lighter step and yet a heavier heart.

He stopped by Quatre's room then to find the blond boy awake as well. He only stayed there long enough to reassure himself that the blond boy was truly "all right" as well as assure Quatre that *he* was fine as well, and then he took off again, wandering through the space station like a lost soul. He ran into some people he knew, or, at least, was acquainted with-Lady Une, Sally Po, Lucrezia Noin in a small cafeteria. Some of the Behr sisters who must have returned the night before in the shopping district of the satellite. Howard down in the hangers with Sweepers and Manganacs. It didn't take him long before he returned to the room where Duo and the girl were holed up in.

If he was surprised to see the girl finally awake when he got there, he didn't show it. She smiled at him and greeted him and murmured something along the lines of 'she'd love to have him come stay with them back on L2'. And then the nurse had come in, telling them that she needed her rest and that the sooner she got it, the sooner she'd be feeling better and be able to get out of there.

She get better a lot sooner than expected-or, rather, maybe it was just the nurses and doctors who were anxious to get rid of the exuberant boy who was her constant companion. Less than a week later, the trio was on a shuttle bound for L2 and the new life that awaited them.

 

 

### Act One Part 2

 

~Act I~

No one had been aware of the extremity of the wound the pilot of Gundam 04 had incurred until the five gundams docked in the hanger awaiting them on the medical satellite, MOII. There had been a lot of backslapping and cheering, hugging and celebrating as tech crews, soldiers and medical staff bombarded the five young war heroes. And then, the medical staff succeeded in whisking away the five pilots in separate directions. Quatre lasted until the last door slid shut between him and his teammates before collapsing into a lucky orderly's arms.

 

 

It was an hour after their arrival on MOII when the boy was abandoned in a solitary room, doped up with painkillers and sedatives, and sleeping away blissfully unaware of the machines attached to his body. And that is how the tall, graceful pilot of 03 found him when the boy managed to rid himself of his own troupe of medical personal.

Trowa had been the only one aware of Quatre's injury--but even *he* hadn't known the severity of the wound. With an almost hesitant step, he approached the bed, eyes wavering from the sleeping face to the wires and tubing connecting the boy to the large machines behind the bed. He studied the steady pulse, watching for a minute before reaching out and touching the pale blond boy.

The pulse jumped and Trowa almost retreated back. Almost. Instead, he slipped his fingers up around Quatre's and gave the limp fingers a gentle squeeze. "Quatre..."

'You're hurt... and it's my fault.'

~Isn't it better this way?~

'No!'

~No strings, Nanashi... haven't you learned anything yet?~

'This is different.'

~Is it really?~

'Yes.'

~How?~

'I-- care, about what happens to him.'

~And you think that matters? Do you think he cares about you?~

'Quatre cares about everyone. He has a kind and generous heart.'

~And a wealthy and prestigious family. Do you really think they will appreciate you hanging around their Quatre?~

'Their... Quatre...?'

~Of course. He has family. He has obligations to fulfill. You would only get in the way.~

'I--'

~Would only get in his way. You're nothing but a well-trained whore, Nanashi. He deserves better than anything you could give him.~

Trowa continued to war with his inner demons, and soon, he began to loose his battle. When Heero stopped by a little while later, his decision was already made. He would stay until Quatre was healed... and then he would leave.

 

 

He hurt. That was his first conscious thought. Or was it unconscious, spilling over into conscious thought? Either way, it didn't matter because he hurt, consciously or unconsciously, his body hurt. His mind and body fought free from the drug-induced sleep forced upon him and nuisances revealed themselves. Like the fact he was on an uncomfortable bed, and there was a stinging, pinching on his arm, and his throat was dry and his head still light and fuzzy. And what in the name of Allah was that insistent beeping all about!

Quatre tried to sit up but found his body heavily protested, and so he slumped back into the bed, breathless from the shearing pain radiating from his side out.

Stiff and sore and dry--all noted without opening his eyes. He was almost afraid of what he'd find. Cautious, Quatre tested his optical senses and wasn't too surprised to find himself in a darkened hospital room. He sighed, resolute to his fate, when his eyes picked up something else in the dark room--a large dark spot next to his hips. He flexed his fingers, smiling as a familiar warmth and smoothness registered.

'Trowa...'

He squeezed the hand holding his for a second before slipping it free, careful not to wake his sleeping lover. He reached out and ran his fingers through the soft bangs shielding the other boy's face, pausing when Trowa shifted. And then, what little light there was in the room, managed to find that one visible eye and illuminate it as it blinked opened and focused up on the sole occupant of the bed.

"Hi," Quatre murmured, clearing his dry throat, tracing his fingers over Trowa's cheek.

"Hi," Trowa repeated, sitting up in his chair, pulling away from the searching fingertips. He was about to pull completely away from the bed when Quatre's hand fell over his, lacing their fingers together and holding him there. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay," Quatre croaked.

"Thirsty?" Quatre nodded, watching with a greedy eye as Trowa poured some water into a cup and held it out to him. Quatre drank and Trowa watched, and then he took the cup away, making sure to leave it in ready distance.

"How are the others?" the blond boy asked, relaxing back into the bed, playing with Trowa's fingers.

"Fine, from what I know," Trowa answered. "You were the only one hurt." He looked down, unable to meet the blond boy's eyes. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Quatre tugged on Trowa's hand, smiling up at him. "I was just about to thank you, for getting me off Libra..."

"Quatre..."

"Is there any word about Dorothy?" he asked, cutting the other boy off before he could go into a spiel of self-failures.

Trowa frowned--or, rather, his remained stoic, which was as good as frowning. "None," he answered with certainty. Perhaps he knew the blond boy too well. It was one of the things he'd made sure to check on after he'd assured himself of Quatre's well-being.

Quatre looked away, consumed by his thoughts, his hand and fingers never relinquishing their hold on Trowa's. "I see," he murmured. "Do you think she made it out safely?" he asked, turning back to his lover.

Trowa lowered his head a mere inch--a nod. "She has a strong spirit. I am sure she is still alive." This seemed to make Quatre happy, and in turn, made him happy.

"I hope so," Quatre returned, smiling as he looked off into space. He looked back to Trowa. A radiant smile lit his face as he looked upon his lover and, on a whim, he brought Trowa's hand to his lips and kissed the roughened skin. "You make a wonderful sight to wake-up to. Have I ever told you that?"

Trowa smiled--the slight twisting of the corner of his lips. "I think you might have mentioned it once or twice before," he answered.

"Only once or twice?" Quatre grinned, tugging on his arm playfully. "Obviously not enough." He pulled Trowa down closer to him until the other's face was hovering over his. Still grinning, Quatre tilted his chin up to look into his lover's face and said, "You, Trowa Barton, make a wonderful sight to wake-up to."

And then he pulled Trowa the rest of the way down and kissed the soft brown- haired boy.

"I'll have none of that hanky-panky stuff here while I'm on duty, now!" a busy musical voice sounded. "Shoo! Shoo! You heard me, boy. This young man here needs his rest!"

Quatre and Trowa broke away to look at the big mother-hen looking woman who'd suddenly appeared in their room, shooing Trowa away from the bed.

"See what you've gone done here!" She continued, her voice not menacing at all. "Lookie there! This poor boy's heart rate be racin' round like a dog's!"

Quatre laughed, laying back in bed agreeably as the middle-aged woman went about her business, chattering--to him or herself, he wasn't quite sure--all the way.

"There ya go, sugah," she said after another minute of fussing. "You's hungry any? They gonna be bringin' in some good food round in a bit. You and your boyfriend here can *eat* this here food. Not like any of the *hos-pee-tal* crap they serve dock side."

Quatre laughed and managed to tell the woman ‘thank you'--which she brushed off easily with a "You don't have to thank *me* for doin' my job, sugah. It's *me* who hassa to thank *you* for saving my boy's life. I didn't want him fighting in that damnedable war no anyhow!"

And then she was gone--as suddenly as she'd arrived--leaving Quatre and Trowa looking sheepishly at one another.

"So..." Quatre voiced.

"So," Trowa mimicked.

"How are the others?"

"Fine from what I--"

"You know, yes," Quatre finished nodding. "Have you seen or spoken to anybody yet?"

Trowa produced a slight decline of chin--a nod. "Heero stopped by while you were sleeping," he replied. "He's fine," he answered before Quatre could ask. "Duo was in the room three doors down last time I check--watching over the girl."

"Ah, yes, Hilde was her name, correct?" Trowa thought so but wasn't sure. "Is she doing any better?" Trowa didn't know but promised to find out for him.

"What about Wufei?" Quatre asked.

"I am fine," Wufei's calm voice answered him.

"Wufei!" Quatre cried out. Trowa nodded to the newcomer. Wufei nodded back.

"I understand you, however, are not," the Chinese youth continued, stepping into the private medical room.

"I'm fine," Quatre insisted.

Wufei arched an eyebrow in questionable mockery. "That is why you are in a hospital bed, then?"

Quatre looked down and fidgeted with the white flat sheet across his lap. "So what are your plans now, Wufei?" he asked with renewed enthusiasm.

"I'm not really sure what I'll do now," the boy answered truthfully.

"You're always welcome to stay with us," Quatre offered, smiling, inviting.

Wufei gave a small bow. "Thank you, Quatre, for thinking of me, but I do not need your charity."

"I never--" A look of horrible abashment stole over the blond's face.

Wufei smiled and hushed him. "I only came by to say goodbye and tell you it was an honor to fight beside you. And you, Trowa," he added, turning to the taller young man, standing opposite the bed. He held out his hand, over the bed, to Trowa.

Trowa looked at the hand for a moment, and then reached out and clasped it, squeezing a bit more tightly than Wufei anticipated--though the smaller boy didn't let on. Onyx meet dark jade. Something passed between the two-- warriors recognizing each other in an almost completely silent exchange.

Trowa nodded.

"Leaving?" Quatre fidgeted. "Why? Where are you going, Wufei? Do you really have to leave so soon? I was hoping we might all go somewhere together and celebrate the end of the war..."

Wufei turned back to the boy on the bed, recovering his throbbing hand. "Perhaps another time, Winner."

Quatre's pouty frown was not mollified. "But, where will you go, Wufei?"

The boy in question looked at him, quiet for a moment. "I don't really know yet," he answered finally. A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips. "Perhaps I will take a Journey of Discovery--and learn who Chang Wufei is."

"Please," Quatre pleaded, turning on the puppy-dog eyes and not even aware of it. "Please keep in touch, Wufei."

Wufei began easing his way towards the exit. "You have my communication's code," he told the blond. "I don't plan on being very far away from Nataku for any length of time. You know how to reach me," he replied.

"Be safe, Wufei," Trowa added.

Wufei hovered at the door, looked back over his shoulder, not really looking at one or the other. "The same to you," he replied. "Quatre, Trowa."

And then he was gone.

Quatre rubbed his chest absently. "He's hurting," he said, just above a whisper. Trowa remained silent. "I wish he would let us help him..."

"He doesn't want our help."

"I know, Trowa," the blond boy said, looking away from the door finally. "But that still doesn't stop the hurting. That still doesn't stop me from *wanting* to help him..."

Trowa smiled and brushed Quatre's cheek with a knuckle. "You should concentrate more on helping yourself, small one."

Quatre ‘humphfed' and pouted. "I'm fine. Really!" he insisted. "It's just a little puncture wound. It'll heal right up, good as new!"

A sparkle gleamed from those marine-depths and a knowing smile caressed those rose-tainted lips. Quatre's hold on Trowa tightened, slowly pulling the standing boy closer again. "Ne... Trowa...?"

"Yes, Quatre?" He tried not to get too close. He didn't want to hurt the boy, first of all; and second, he really didn't relish the idea of someone else walking in on them.

"C'mon here," the bed-laidened boy requested, continuing to pull the other nearer. "I wanna tell you something."

Trowa felt his cock swell in his pants and his heart thump in his chest. He knew only too well what his lover had in mind when *that* look overtook him... "Quatre, I really think you should try to get some more rest," he tried, swallowing deep, deliberate breaths. He could have bet money on the response that would bring. He would have won.

"Trowa...?" Quatre wheedled, his lips puckering and a playful pout and his eyes seeming to grow magically large. "Please...?"

;~Don't give in! Don't give in! Don't give--auh! You sucker!~

Trowa found himself half on the bed, half off, his upper body thrown over Quatre's as the surprisingly strong smaller boy, dragged him up over him, locking his arms around Trowa; his lips stealing over his.

"Mmmm... You taste as good as you look," Quatre murmured after he finally released his lover. "I wanna eat you all up..." His tongue swiped at Trowa's ear, before drawing on the lobe, sucking it between his teeth and murmuring his appreciation. "I want you..."

"Quatre... you're hurt," Trowa admonished.

"I don't care." Quatre hands stole down Trowa's back, dancing in and out of the waistband of his jeans.

"You'll pull your stitches and then in will take longer for you to heal!" Trowa gasped--the gasp having more to do with Quatre's fingers teasing his cleft than Quatre's not caring to get better.

"Mmmm... I'm a fast healer," the blond boy protested, squeezing one cheek before settling into a deep massage of the tight ass under his fingertips. "Have I told you what a nice ass you have, Trowa?" he practically giggled, nuzzling Trowa's neck.

"Quatre..."

"Master Quatre..."

Quatre groaned. This just was not his day. Was he *destined* to be sexually frustrated for the rest of his stay here? If so, he'd have to make arrangements to get off here, and quick!

Quatre unburied his face from Trowa's neck, but refused to relinquish his hold on the boy otherwise--despite Trowa's somewhat uncomfortable squirming. He ignored the pain that shot up and down his side where the stitches attempted to tear free. The large, hulking man in the door way seemed only mildly disconcerted to having found his young master in such a compromising position.

"Yes, Rashid? Was there something you needed?" Quatre asked, his sweet, innocent voice sounding just as sweet and innocent as always--despite his hand glued to another man's ass.

"I tried to find you," the bear of a man replied. "They told me you were here." The already dark face darkened. "Master Quatre, you should have informed us sooner of your injuries!"

"Rashid! We were in the middle of a war! When do you suggest would have been a good time for me to inform everyone that I had a little cut?"

"Thirty-two stitches is hardly little!" the larger man retorted.

"They're small," Quatre insisted. "Itty-bitty stitches, Rashid." The blond let go of Trowa long enough to demonstrate just how small the statures were. "They had to use so many to ensure little scarring."

"And to seal up your insides," Trowa added, trying to rest the majority of his weight OFF of Quatre--though the position the boy held him in didn't help much.

Quatre shot his lover a glare that told him just how much he appreciated his support. "Enough," he said, tuning back to Rashid. "What's done is done and cannot be changed. It's over now, and all we can do is deal with it, no?" Quatre smiled sheepishly then. "I am sorry if I caused you to worry or stress, Rashid. It was not my intention. Quite the opposite, really."

The older man continued to frown from his standing place just inside the doorway.

"Forgiven?" Quatre asked, releasing Trowa and holding his arms out to the older man as a child would to his parent. Trowa seized the opportunity to scramble off the bed and re-straighten his clothes. Rashid relented and went to the blond on the bed, embracing the small boy in a bear of a hug.

"You should be more careful, Master Quatre," the man whispered over the blond's head, his chest rumbling with the deep, resonating sound. "The Maganac soldiers take your well-being very seriously, and would be deeply saddened if we learned of our failure to protect you."

"You could never fail me, Rashid," Quatre whispered against the man's tunic. "I fear it is I who has failed you, and too often."

"Never."

Quatre sniffled, rubbing his face in the soft, worn material. "I'm sorry, Rashid. I'm sorry for making you upset."

"I am not upset at you, Master Quatre," the bear man replied, still holding the boy close. "Only at your injuries which I failed to prevent."

"They'll heal. I'm a fast healer." Quatre pulled back and smiled, looking up into Rashid's face. "I don't even get sick!"

"I promise, I'll be as good as new in no time," he insisted, punctuated the statement with a yawn.

"Of course, Master Quatre," the man replied, laying Quatre back down into the bed. "But for now, you should rest." He climbed off the bed.

"Wait, Rashid! Before you leave, please, tell me... is... is everyone okay?"

Quatre's eyes were already drooping shut so he didn't see the man's hesitance.

"No damage that cannot be fixed, Master Quatre," the bear man replied, knowing a full recount could wait till after the young boy had rested.

Quatre smiled, cozying deeper into the bed that would not yield for him. "Good. I'm glad." One hand came up to rub his chest in an absent, soothing manner. "Good," he repeated more sleepily.

Rashid looked from the sleeping boy to the young man standing next to the bed, looking down at the bed. As if sensing the older man's stare, Trowa looked up and their eyes meant.

"Master Trowa," Rashid said formally, bowing his head a fraction.

Trowa started to correct him, remind him that he was *not* a master of anything to anyone and certainly not this seasoned soldier, but gave it up. He nodded instead. And then--with a small quirk of his lips, the bear man turned and left, leaving him to his quiet vigil over the sleeping blond.

*

It was several hours later before Quatre re-awoke. A small tray of food had been brought during that time and was waiting for him on the bed table.

"Good morning," Trowa said, his normal soft voice filling the air of the room, drowning out the steady bleep of the heart monitor.

Quatre smiled. "Haven't we already done this today?"

Trowa shared his smile, albeit a small one. "That was much earlier," the tall young man answered.

"Mmmm, I see," Quatre replied, eyes racking over every inch of his lover. "So... do I get my morning kiss?" he asked teasingly.

Trowa turned a stoic look towards the food tray. "I think perhaps you should try to eat something--to help you regain your strength."

Quatre pouted. "I'd rather do something else than eat... Unless they're serving Trowa ala Carte as the main dish..."

"Quatre..."

Trowa could feel the draw the other boy had over him, could feel his own body gravitating towards the bed as his blood sang.

"Trowa..."

Trowa leaned closer; Quatre wrapped his hand behind Trowa's neck and pulled him the rest of the way down. Their lips touched, a sweet chaste kiss--and then Quatre's lips parted and sucked Trowa's bottom lip into his mouth. Trowa moaned, his tongue following his lip and sweeping into the blond boy's mouth. Quatre moaned, appreciating the caress of the silky tongue against his own, entreating the taller boy to be more aggressive, to take more.

"I'd suggest getting a private room but this is about as good as you'll get," a bemused voice stated from behind them.

Quatre groaned. Allah was definitely being unkind to him today. There was no other way to explain it. Trowa pulled away almost immediately, his scent and taste still lingering, and Quatre was too slow to stop him, to hold him close. And then the owner of the newcomer's voice registered on his brain and he sat up and turned to great him with excitement.

"Heero! You're alive! Are you okay?" he gushed.

The Japanese boy smirked--actually *smirked*. "Hai. I am fine," Heero replied.

Trowa looked at his friend, noticing the small changes in him, and inwardly he smiled. "You talked to Duo," was all he said.

Heero looked at him... and then nodded. "Hai. Just now."

Trowa nodded. Quatre beamed. "How is he? How is Hilde? That is her name, right? Is she awake yet? I really wanted to thank her for bringing us those plans but--"

"He is fine," Heero cut in. "The girl is still unconscious." He stepped away from the door and entered the room, coming closer to the bed. "You are looking better than last time I saw you."

Quatre grinned and shot a look towards Trowa. "Oh, I've been better," he admitted, turning back to Heero.

"He still needs his rest," Trowa interjected. "And relaxation. Otherwise he'll pull out those stitches."

Heero shot another bemused look to the lovers. "Stitches, huh? Let's take a look." He reached for the flat sheet only to have it snatched out of his hand by Quatre.

Quatre knew he was blushing, but he didn't care. He knew Heero was looking at him funny, but he didn't care about that either. "I'm a bit un--undressed," he explained, shifting uneasily and feeling the bed sheets slide against his naked ass.

Heero's lips quirked, and his eyes shot over to Trowa. The taller boy met his look before flickering back to Quatre. "Are you hiding something?" he asked, his voice teasing and amused.

Quatre's mouth worked, soundless, for several moments before speech was possible. "No. No!" he assured. "It's just that..."

He shifted again, acutely aware that the other boy could *see* what was wrong-- besides his arousal that still hadn't gone away from before Heero's arrival, Quatre's only barrier against complete nakedness was a thin little hospital gown that didn't even go to his knees--not to mention that it was missing a back.

Quatre gulped in a fortifying breath, pushed the sheet down, and pulled the gown aside, exposing his entire side from armpit down to thigh, entirely naked except for the gauzy white patch taped over his wound. "It's all covered," he told them. "Not much to see, see?" His voice quivered with his nervousness.

Warm fingers brushing against his skin, scalding him, caused him to start and yelp. "Hold still," Heero warned a second before the tape pulled free from his flushed skin.

"Ah!" Quatre yelled, surprised by the unexpected pain. And then he realized Heero and Trowa were leaning over him, studying his wound and completely ignoring *him*.

"Not too bad," Trowa murmured.

"I've seen worse," Heero commented, poking at the small row of statures, testing their hold.

"I've seen better," Trowa returned, noting the angry red coloring of infection as well as the deep purplish-blue bruise.

"Good hand. Tight."

"Kept small. There should be little scaring."

"Any internal damage?"

"Yes. It went straight in."

"You'll have to keep an eye out for infection," Heero said, pointing at the fevered skin.

"It shouldn't be too hard." Trowa smiled. "I kept you alive, didn't I? And you were worse off than a little hole."

"Hn."

"WILL YOU STOP TALKING AS IF I'M NOT EVEN *HERE*?"

Both boys pulled back and looked up at the blond's red face. Heero replaced the gauze and proclaimed, "You'll live."

"Well, that's nice to know," Quatre snapped, licking his drying lips and panting.

"But you should be careful," he continued. "They're already starting to pull free."

Quatre frowned. "I don't feel any pain, though."

Heero tapped the IV bag hiding behind Quatre's bed. "Pain killer. I doubt you'd feel anything but good and groggy."

Quatre pouted but didn't reply. Heero moved around the bed to take a closer look at the prescribed medicine. A brow arched and he looked back to Trowa over Quatre's head. "Were you aware they have him on Triandarin?

Trowa moved around the bed, frowning. "No. Really?"

"What?" Quatre asked, curious. "What is it?"

"Well that explains a lot," his lover mused, not answering. "I'll talk to the nurse about changing it to something else."

"Change WHAT?"

Trowa and Heero's attention snapped back to Quatre. "They have you on Triandarin," Heero answered.

"Is that good or bad?" Quatre asked, his voice wavering.

Trowa looked at Heero. Heero looked at Trowa. Heero looked at Quatre. "Triandarin has an interesting side-effect," Heero hedged.

Quatre twisted around to look at them. Heero shot a glance towards Trowa before walked back around to the front of the bed. Trowa followed him from the other side.

"It acts like an aphrodisiac, Quatre," Trowa said, his voice soft and calm like always. "Reduces you body to a numb state of pleasure."

"Oh," Quatre replied. And then, "OH!" His marine eyes darted to Heero before stopping on Trowa. "But, no, I mean, Trowa, you know--"

His lover stopped him with a finger over his lips. Trowa offered a small smile for him. "You should get some more sleep."

"And try not to move around so much," Heero added. "Allow those stitched to settle a bit."

Quatre's cheeks pinkened.

"I'll go talk to the nurse," Trowa offered, but Quatre whimpered and held out a hand. "Stay with me," the blond boy begged.

Trowa looked at Heero with a silent question. The Japanese boy nodded and left to go talk with the nurse. Trowa's hand slipped into Quatre's and the blond boy tugged on it. "Sleep with me," he asked, sleepy again.

"Just rest," Trowa soothed. Quatre pouted--eyes closed, nose itching. "Hold me?" Trowa hesitated. "Please, Trowa? I'm cold, hold me..."

The taller boy sighed and climbed up onto the bed, settling the smaller blond into his arms. In a moment of overwhelming tenderness, Trowa leaned closer and brushed Quatre's forehead, under the sun-kissed bangs, with his lips. "Rest, Quatre. I'll be here when you wake up again," he whispered.

But Quatre was already asleep.

*

Trowa knew it was the medication that caused the spirited young man in his arms to be so somnolent. A side effect of any medication. He brushed the damp, grungy bangs away from Quatre's forehead and brushed his cheek.

Beautiful. He was so beautiful. Did he have any idea?

Trowa leaned forward and kissed the sleeping beauty. His angel. No. Not an angel. Much more than that. Quatre was real, but not real. Like a prince charming. The kind you dream about; who stars in your private fantasies--but whom you will never meet. Who you weren't supposed to ever meet.

But they had meet.

And for ten hellish months full of war and nightmares, missions and death, Trowa had been given the opportunity to live out his own fantasy of sorts. He had tasted the sweetness in the form of a blond Arabian. A prince. A blond Arabian Prince.

Trowa smiled at the thought. He knew the fantasy couldn't last forever; knew better then to delude himself into believing that it could, that this relationship with the small blond would last beyond the war and the fighting. Trowa knew that nothing was forever--good or bad, and he knew it would be easier to leave before Quatre told him to. It would be too hard if he had to hear Quatre tell him to get lost. No. He would leave his Prince Charming free to continue his life the war and he had interrupted.

Trowa was no fairy princess. Trowa wasn't even Trowa. Just a used whore without a real name of his own. An ex-soldier with no war to fight in. No reason to live, really.

An image of a fiery redhead filled his vision. Catherine. She was like a sister to him. The only real family he'd every come close to knowing. She would be sad if he died. For some reason, the thought of her sad made him sad.

He would go back to Catherine and the circus.

He looked down at the sleeping prince in his arms.

After Quatre was healed.

*

A nurse came by with a new IV bag shortly after Heero left. Trowa said nothing as the young girl tried to hide her shocked staring and curiosity about the two boys on the bed, holding each other--for all practically purposes, cuddling. He watched her as she fumbled and dropped the old back before replacing it with the new medication. She tried to talk to him, but when he didn't reply her nervousness increased tenfold and she darted out of there as quick as her little legs and fumbling fingers could take her.

When Quatre did wake up several hours later he was feeling more than just an ounce grouchy and uncomfortable. In true, royally rich-boy-spoiled fashion, Quatre called for his immediate release and then for Rashid when the medical faculty refused to release him. It actually took him almost a complete twenty- four hours before the small blond had attained permission to leave--and that being within the custody of a primary care physician.

Trowa sat back and watched the commotion his small blonde Arabian prince stirred up, secretly laughing his ass off behind the stoic mask.

 

 

### Act One Part 3

 

Atlong followed the hordes of cheering mobile suits back to the space station, MOII, at a more subdued pace than his comrades. A part of him dreaded going there, having to face all those people—what would they say? Would they do? Would they hate him out-right? After all, he was their enemy. He had been their enemy for almost a year. He was responsible for their leader's death. He was responsible for many of their family's deaths.

A part of him dreaded going there, but another part of him dreaded being alone. Being left behind. And that part of him begged to be swallowed up by the swarms of people MOII promised. But most of all, he wanted to forget. He wanted to forget this battle. This day. This month. This year. This war. He wanted to forget the fact that he no longer had a home or family. He wanted to forget that he was an orphan of the war he had helped create, execute, end... Forget that he had nothing more to show of his life for the past year than a banged up mobile suit made of gundanium alloy. A machine of mass destruction. That was all he owned, all he had to show. One of seven—no, six—such suits in the entire Earth and colonies.

He wanted to forget everything and anything.

He was wanting. Searching. Searching for something, for anything. Anything to help him forget. But what? He didn't know. So he kept searching, roaming the corridors of the floating medical operatous station. No destination in mind, just wanting to escape the memories that wouldn't leave him alone.

"Are you lost, Chang Wufei?"

He thought it was another voice in his head, coming to haunt him. And then he froze, realizing the voice was all too real. Suddenly, he wished he was anywhere but *here*, and he lowered his head, feeling even more dejected and lost.

He stood standing there, his back to the voice, caught in the indecision of the moment. Turn, and face her... or run away. Run away like he was burning to do. Run far, far away.

His feet were frozen.

"Wufei, I..."

There was a hesitation in the voice. One that made it easier for him to turn and face her. He looked at her, but her face was turned down, her eyes staring at some point on the floor between them. Her military uniform looked sharp and fresh, hardy; belaying the soft tones of the light brown hair that fell loose, down over her shoulders. She wasn't bad looking, he concluded. For a woman. And she was strong, a noble fighter, he recalled. Dedicated.

"Wufei," she began, her voice softer than he ever remembered coming from this woman. "I want to thank you."

It was such a calm statement, and completely unexpected. It hurt him, and he lashed out against it. "Thank me?" he spat. "For *what*?"

"For ending the war," she replied, no heat or anger or mockery in her voice.

That angered him more, recalling that he was responsible for Trieze's death. "I wasn't the one who surrendered," he growled.

"No, but by fulfilling Master Treize's wish, you provide the final blow." Lady Une looked up, her solid brown eyes meeting with his directly and Wufei realized, once again, he'd misjudged her. She wasn't soft, and she wasn't a cold, callous adversary. She was hardened, yes, and hurting. Like him.

"He was so sure he could count on you," she said, her voice wavering almost unnoticeably. "Thank you. For ending the war between Earth and the colonies."

"Wish?" He swallowed. "Count on me?" He wanted to scream. To shout out. To lash out at the man who wasn't there to fight back.

Lady Une smiled, that soft look returning, and motioned to one of the doors lining the corridor. "Please," she said, holding her hand out to the door. "May we sit and talk for a moment?"

He was suspicious, he knew she could see, but then, she couldn't blame him, could she? After all, they *were* enemies... weren't they? They were silent, still, standing in the corridor staring at one another, and then he swayed, and preceded her through the indicated door. If she was going to kill him for killing Trieze at least he wouldn't have to think about it anymore.

Wufei coughed as the smoky air filled his lungs, and for a minute, he couldn't see in the sudden darkness. But the room wasn't completely dark he realized. And it wasn't completely empty, either. With somewhat surprise, he realized she had led him to a bar.

"We can talk privately here," Lady Une said, pushing past him and leading to a small alcove near the back.

"A--a--BAR?" he sputtered.

"OZ treats its members well," she replied.

"When not sacrificing them for the cause," he retorted.

She paused; looked at him, and then smiled. "Touché," she returned, sliding behind a selected table. A waitress was at their table before Wufei even had the chance to sit, asking them what they would like to drink.

Lady Une wasted no time in deciding her drink, a glass of red rose wine, and both women turned to the fifteen year old war hero. "Whatever," Wufei grumbled, waving his hand.

The waitress turned worried, questioning eyes towards the Commander. Lady Une gave a small nod and the waitress was off, to retrieve their drinks.

Wufei sat, and he took a moment to look at his---companion was it now? They weren't enemies anymore, were they? Had they ever really been enemies, he questioned himself. In these mixed-up, up-side-down, past 12 months? What was true anymore? The waitress returned with their drinks before either one said a word. He stared down at the tumbler of amber-brown liquid, untrusting.

"You said something about Trieze's wish," he prodded, knowing nowhere else to begin.

"Yes," Une replied, rolling her glass between her fingers, studying the curve of the glass. Wufei thought she wasn't going to say anymore. And then she looked up.

"It was Master Trieze's wish," she said, her voice calm, cool, level, "That he die honorably in battle, and that—" Her voice wavered, just a tremble of a note before she pulled it back into regiment. "At such time of his..." She seemed to hesitate over the word. "Passing," she swallowed. "The Earth Forces were to surrender unconditionally to White Fang." She studied his reaction to this. "Those were his orders to me."

Wufei didn't know what to say--she didn't seem to mind the silence that stretched out between them, but it grated upon his nerves.  _'Why?'_  It was a burning question, searing itself across his brain, pounding itself out inside his head till he thought he would scream.  _'Why him? Why choose death? Why did he think *he* was going to die? Why him?'_

"Why?" Wufei's voice choked out, startling the heavy silence around them.

Lady Une took a slow drink and set the glass down with a decided clink. She looked straight at him, meeting his piercing glare, not flinching or giving an inch.

"I cannot answer that," she said finally. "I am sorry."

"You can't, or you won't?" Wufei prodded.

She paused, actually considering the value of his question. "I cannot," she replied after a tried minute. "I'm sorry."

Lady Une stood, zipping her id card through the credit table and entering her personal code. "I wanted to thank you," she said as she did, "And I have. Perhaps--" she hesitated from immediate departure. "Perhaps, one day, we will meet again, as allies."

They stared at each other, wills clashing.

"Perhaps," the Chinese boy conceded.

They held a moment longer... and then she nodded and turned away from him.

Wufei found himself alone again. Alone in a semi-empty blues bar. Oh, how fullingly ironic, he thought, ordering another drink. Might as well take advantage of it.

He raised his glass and shot the remainder of firewater down his throat and waited for whatever the liquor promised him.

 

 

There was a delicious warmth pressed against his back, wrapped around his waist, like a cocoon. A protective warmth. Welcoming. He felt safe in a way he hadn't experienced since longer than he could remember. That good feeling began to ebb as other feelings began to register in his drink-fogged mind. Like the very uncomfortable burning originating from his ass. The musky scent that wasn't his own. The weight of legs tangled with his and hot breath against his neck. Two obsidian eyes flashed open as reality swooped down upon him like a giant anvil and it took a great reserve of control not to bolt right then and there.

That warmth was from another's body, body heat--which wouldn't have really alarmed him all that much if it wasn't for the identity of that body: Heero Yuy.

Pressed full-length against his back, arm wrapped around his middle. Wufei was trapped; there wasn't a way from him to move without disturbing the other boy. Wufei was trapped and he didn't like that. He fought the urge to panic.

His heart choked his throat, his body stiffened. He had to get away. He had to get--

Behind him, Heero murmured in his sleep and shifted, sliding closer to him, his arm tightening around Wufei and pulling him closer. Heero's hips shifted, rocking into Wufei's. Wufei bit back a cry, fighting back the burning in his chest and stomach. He had to get out. He had to get away.

He managed to escape the bed without waking the other boy. Fumbling for his rumpled clothes, he stumbled for the bathroom and locked himself in. He fell against the sink, running the water and splashing his face repetitively with the cold water until the water warmed and scolded his fingers. He gasped, staring up at his reflection in the tiny mirror.

_~What the hell are you doing, Chang?~_

He sunk to his knees, choking.

_~Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT! What the hell were you thinking?!~_

_~Shit! I gotta get out of here. I can't stay here. ~_

He shoved into his rumpled clothes, crossed the room on silent feet, and escaped, not looking back at the Japanese pilot or the room that kept him.

 

 

He wasn't sure what made him run from one set of confusions to another, but he did. He ran away from the residence quarters to the medical wing. He ran from Heero Yuy to Duo Maxwell.

He just wanted to see the other boy, he told himself. To make sure for himself that Duo was all right, and maybe--Maybe one last chance, one last hope. Would the braided boy ask him to stay?

Part of him desperately hoped so.

If Duo did... would he stay?

_~Yes.~_

*No.*

He couldn't stay. Not now. He... just... couldn't...

_~Even if the braided boy begged?~_

*He wouldn't.*

_~But if he did...?~_

Perhaps. Perhaps he'd stay then. But that wouldn't be an option.

Wufei didn't know what he wanted. Didn't know what to do with himself. He wanted everything... and nothing... and anything in between.

 

 

Howard never made it back to his quarters that night. He and a couple of his sweepers got swinging drunk and all crashed in the nearest apartment. Cramming fifteen drunken men into one man's quarters might have been something he used to do on a regular basis--when he was a youngin', but, "Let's face it, old man, you're not as young as you used to be!"

Rubbing away the cricks in his neck and back, yawning away the last of his sleepiness, the 68-year-old man of all trades thought, "I'm getting too old for this." Howard trudged his way down to the hangers where he was sure to find some of his people. His body ached in places he'd forgot existed--and would like to forget again.

He laughed at his own thoughts, and then winced as the bones in his back popped. "Nope, definitely getting old."

"I've been telling ya that for a while," another man's voice answered him. "Here," the sandy-brown-going-grey-haired man said, shoving a plastic cup and two pain killers into the old man's hands.

"Ah, Craig! You're a life saver!" Howard gushed, downing the offerings.

"I've been telling ya *that*, too," his number one man grinned. "And you *still* haven't given me that raise I deserve."

Howard humphfed. "If I pay ya anymore, there'll be nothing left for *me*!"

"You gonna retire soon, anyway," Craig countered. "So what do you care?"

Howard grinned and shook his head--immediately regretting it when his head began pounding like a bass drum. "You trying to shove me into an early grave, that's what it is," Howard groaned.

"Hn. Fat lot of good that'll do me," Craig answered, shoving a clipboard into Howard's hands. "Here. Here's a list of the girls I managed to call in, five ships, plus I secure us some new ones--you did say get 'em if I could, so I did. Signed and sold. Seven are already out to sea, these two," Kevin nodded in the direction of two ships in the full hanger, "are being prepped as we speak. Shouldn't take too much to have them ready to go."

Howard nodded, looking over both ships with a critical eye. "Good ships?"

"Nothing but the best," Craig gleamed. "These two over here," he said, pointed over across the bay to two large docked ships, "are the Andromeda and the Ghebriel. I was looking them over earlier. They look fit enough to take on the Dade."

Howard looked up. "Really, now..." He gave the ships the eyeball, and then nodded. "I see. And what's our status on recovery?"

"We're doing good," Kevin replied. "Relatively speaking, of course. There's a lot of junk out there. The Sternlicht and Sicily have full bellies and are already on their way back in and--"

"Here?"

"What?"

"They're coming back here?" Howard clarified, frowning.

"Yeah, what did--"

"Delay that," Howard snapped. "Take 'em to sector 5A91 and 3X009."

"All the way out there?" Craig balked. "But, Howard! That'll use up more fuel!"

"You think I care about that," the old man snapped, whirling on his second. "Set up all the ships to unload in different sectors. I don't want any two ships in the same place at the same time. You only have seven ships out there? Call in all the crews if you have to, then. Bring in all our ships. I want all this scrap out of this area by 0 hundred!"

"But that's less than 24 hours!!!"

"I don't care!"

"Most of our ships are too far away to call in," Craig began.

"I don't care," Howard cut him off. "Call 'em all in. I want this place scrapped clean by 0:00 hours."

Craig looked at him, stunned. "Howard! Be reasonable, man! Do you realize how much *junk* there is out there?" He shook his head in bewilderment. "That's spreading our resources mighty thin! We don't *have* that many men! Even if we *could* get this place cleared out by then, our bays would *never* be able to hold so much *junk*!"

"Spread it out," Howard told him, walking over to the two docked ships. "I don't want anyone dumping in the same spot twice. Spread it out throughout all our sites."

"But we don't have enough men for that! Ships!"

"Get more," Howard replied. "I gave you an account. There's plenty there to get more ships, and this station here is chalk-load-filled with unemployed men, now. Offer 'em some work!"

"Howard, you're crazy."

The old man turned around, lowing his shades and grinning. "Maybe so, but I ain't seen you quitting me yet."

"You *do* realize this means I have to rearrange the entire schedule...?"

"That's what I'm paying ya to do, ain't it?" Howard turned back to the ships in front of him.

Craig sighed, defeated, throwing his arms up into the arm and letting them fall to his sides, he turned back to his makeshift office, complaining loudly all the way. Howard just grinned and shook his head. Craig was a good man. He was lucky to have him, and for as many years as he had...

He looked back up to the two ships, studying their outside hauls. They looked in good shape, fine designs. Of course, it's what's on the insides that count, he thought, climbing aboard the first one.

 

 

Wufei hesitated. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to go in. He wasn't sure if he really didn't want to just leave, avoid this risk. He swallowed.  _'Since when have you been a coward, Chang?'_  he asked himself.

He pushed the door aside and looked in without knocking. He forgot to breathe he realized, that's why his chest was burning, his eyes stinging, his throat tight, his stomach clenched.  _'Was this what Heero felt?'_  he wondered.  _'Is this what he saw, that made him find a bar to get drunk in and forget?'_

Wufei studied the lithe youth, curled up on the bed, cradling the unconscious girl. He swallowed. What was it about the boy that got to him? What had managed to permeate all his defenses? Why had he let the boy in? He swallowed a large gulp of air. He couldn't stay here. He should leave before Duo woke up. There was nothing to say to the boy. He wasn't even sure he could form the words if there was.

No. Best to leave. Get away. He would... he would, pay his respects to Quatre and Trowa, and then he would leave. Yes. It would be best if he just left.

Wufei backed out of the room, taking a moment to calm his emotions. He would leave, and things would go back to normal. That's all there was too it. He wasn't sure exactly *where* he would go, what he would do, but he didn't worry about that now. There would be plenty of time to think about those things once he was away.

He counted his breaths until they evened out and he could feel his control slipping back into place. He walked into the room, two doors down, just in time to hear the blond boy's query about him.

"I am fine," he answered, thankful that his voice sounded calm and even.

 

 

"I'll take this one," Howard said, stepping down the gangplank.

Craig stilled his approach, giving the old man a hard look. "Oh, no, you don't. I just fix this here schedule and no where on it does it say you're gonna be takin' one of the ships out on a joy ride--or do you forget what happened to the last ship you took out?"

Howard covered his chest with his fist. "Peacemillion was a *fine* ship," he praised. "They'll be none like her, mark my words."

"She was the best damn ship there ever was!" Craig shouted. "And *you* had to go rammin' her up Libra's ass! Now I tell you, that's no way to treat an expensive, delicate piece of art!"

Howard grinned. "Aye, but she went out with a bang, didn't she?" He lowered his tinted lenses and winked. "Any way, I'm going out and I'm taking the Ghebriel with me." He walked on past Craig, jabbing his thumb back to the ship he'd just exited.

Craig chased him out into the corridor. "Wait a minute, Howard, you can't mean to be going after him!"

The old man stilled in the center of the corridor, head falling to his chest. There was a heartbeat of silence.

"He's my only family, Craig. My little brother." He looked up, down the darkened passage.

"He made is choice, Howard," Craig told him gently. "You can't keep thinking to save him every time he gets into trouble. We're not kids anymore."

"You'd do the same thing for Nikki; you know you would."

"Nikki's dead," Craig said, pain and tears ringing clear through his voice. "Garret probably is now, too." He paused, licked his lips, hating to do this to his lifetime friend, knowing the pain he was causing. "Do you really think any of them could have survived that blast?"

Howard didn't say anything for a moment. And then, "They've survived worse things before. I'd be disappointed if they let a little fireworks show get the best of them."

He continued down the corridor; Craig didn't try to stop him.

 

 

Howard made his way back to the quarters assigned to him when MOII first took them on. He wasn't sure if he was surprised or not to find the apartment empty and everything in order, from the spick-and-span bathroom, to the crisp-and-sharply made bed. He shook his head, chuckling. Those kids were something else. He could just *imagine* what their heads must've been like this morning, and they still left the place in better shape then they'd found it.

"They would've made fine boy scouts," he mused, washing his face off and looking in the mirror.

"He's alive, Craig. You're wrong. I know he's alive..."

 

 

He had no real aim, no real goal. No real destination. He just knew he had to get away, get off this station, and soon.

He left the blond boy and his mate, not stopping by the room holding the braided boy who held *his* love and the girl. He didn't return to the room that had seen his indiscretion. He didn't even want to *think* about that. Not yet. He wasn't ready to justify his action of that night, yet. He wasn't ready to face himself. Wasn't ready to face Heero. See the look of contempt in the other's eyes.

No. He ran. He ran because it was the only thing he could do and still stay sane. A part of him realized he was running away--running away like he'd always had since before he could remember. Running away from the pain, away from--

He ran to his gundam. Checked his gauges and engines. Even made sure to check his com unit in case anyone wanted to reach him--even though he knew they wouldn't. *He* wouldn't, at any rate. So it really didn't matter.

As soon as his gundam was replenished (with fuel and rations but not bullets or armaments--MOII didn't *have* *those* things. Didn't *need* them. And neither did he. No, he didn't need guns or bullets anymore. The war was over. No more war. No more need for guns and bullets and violence. No more need for soldiers). He left. He took off. He ran away.

Atlong Gundam's engines roared to life and careened free from the hanger, leaving four deadened gundams behind.

 

 

"Well, kid, you look no worse for the wear!" Howard boasted, engulfing the slightly smaller boy in a bear's embrace.

Duo laughed and hugged the old man. "Me? Nah, I'm fine! Can't kill Death, don't cha know?" He winked, pulling back.

"You eat yet, kid? You're beginning to look like skin and bones!"

Duo shot him a sheepish grin. "I *knew* I was forgetting 'bout something..."

Howard just laughed and tugged on his arm. "Well, c'mon, then. I was 'bout to grab myself a bit to eat. Thought I'd stop by and check in on you, before I did. Good thing I did, too, huh?"

Duo hesitated between the bed and the old man. Howard turned to see what was keeping him and grinned. "Don't worry, boy. She's got a whole colony's worth of people here watching her. She'll be fine till you get back. Can't go staying in here the whole time, now, can you?"

"Nah, guess you're right," Duo answered, following Howard out. "I just hate to leave her, you know?"

"Don't worry 'bout it kid," Howard patted him on the back. "She's a good kid. She'll pull through. Probably be up by the time you get back."

"Yeah, you're right," Duo grinned. "So, what are ya're plans now?"

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that, you know. Cleaning up the galaxy and all that fun stuff," Howard replied, leading the braided boy down to the cafeteria wing.

 

 

Howard spent a good hour with his favorite gundam pilot, just shooting the breeze, mostly. But when they were done, he felt better. He knew he was stalling--that he was afraid to go out there and find out Craig was right, that there *were* no survivors...

But when he got back to the hanger, his things ready to go, there was some promising news waiting for him. Craig met him at the door, a nervous, but hopeful smile in place. "I just got word from the Broward," he said. "They think they found them."

It was all the reassurance Howard needed to hear to know they were alive.

 

 

### Act One Part Four

 

She was on the bridge when the final blows came. There, when the Libra exploded on their view screens, stealing away the life of Milliardo Peacecraft with it. There, when the blocks continued to fall, making his sacrifice almost all for nothing. There, when Gundam Wing Zero and its pilot fell, soaring ahead of the falling chunks. There, when the falling chunks melted away into bits and pieces of shooting stars. There, when the first whoops of joy spread throughout the soldiers, even before the view screens could pick up Wing Zero. There, as the crew members on the bridge broke out into cheers.

She was there, crying; the tears rolling down her cheeks, hands clasped between her small breasts, throat tight and sore, head bowed. 'Brother.'

And then the calls began pouring in and there was no time to allow herself to cry, to feel. Calls from the Earth nations. Calls from the colonies. Everyone wanted to know what was going on, what was happening, what was going to happen now?

And she was forced back into the political mêlée she had only just so recently escaped with Trieze's help.

But Trieze wasn't here anymore. Zechs wasn't here anymore. She was alone again.

'Heero.'

A shuttle was prepared to escort her to the colonies even before any of the Gundams had arrived at MOII. She was on board and jettisoned away before she could see any of them, talk with any of them, congratulate them and thank them.

She was to arrive in L1, where the leaders of all five Colonial Groups were already gathered-there previously to discuss their relationship with White Fang. Ready now to discuss their future relationship with Earth. And they all looked to *her* for guidance. One fifteen-soon-to-be-sixteen year old girl, once a diplomat's daughter, once a princess of a dissolved kingdom, once a queen of an entire world. Now just another war orphan.

"They're still tied up with the medical staff here," Noin was saying on the small view screen.

"But they're alright?" Relena asked urgently.

"Yes, from what I've been able to discover," Noin answered. "Apparently Quatre was the only one hurt-"

"Quatre?!"

"Yes," Noin nodded. "I don't know how or where, but from what I could find out, it was nothing life-threatening."

Relena nodded, biting her lower lip. "And. Heero?"

"Fine," Noin replied, her voice somewhat constricted. "He's giving the doctors here hell because they don't believe he's in perfect condition." She gave the girl a wan smile.

Relena smiled in return, relaxing in her seat. "Good, I'm glad."

"Yes, he saved us all," Noin whispered. "Relena, you just worry about those bureaucrats and diplomats," she said, suddenly charged. "You're needed if this new peace is going to survive."

Relena was slower to agree, but she nodded and pasted on her best smile. "I will, yes, Noin," she replied, her voice carefully controlled. "And please, keep me informed?"

"Of course. Noin, signing off," she said before cutting the connection.

She sighed, falling back her chair.

"Was that Relena?" Sally asked, coming up behind her.

Noin nodded, closing her weary eyes. "Yes."

A part of her had been surprised when she docked the white Taurus suit in the designated hanger on MOII. She really hadn't expected anyone to be waiting for her, especially since she was so late in arriving, but there she was. For a moment, the dark-haired young woman didn't move, didn't say a word. She just sat there in her pilot's seat, hatch open, staring down at her lap, a still life.

And then she looked up, over from her cockpit, to the ginger-haired older woman standing on the catwalk, waiting patiently for her. Eyes met, held, shared.

Noin swallowed, gasped, choked, her eyes stinging against the repressed tears, chest burning, screaming for the air she couldn't seem to swallow. And she crumbled, losing the battle against herself.

Sally used the lesser gravity to jump the distance between them, hopping into the cockpit and pulling the smaller, darker woman into her arms. She cooed and rocked and soothed, holding the teenager to her breast. "It's okay, it's okay," she chanted upon a whisper as the teen allowed her tears and heartache out.

"She's got her work cut out for her."

"Relena can do it," Noin answered, pushing up from the console chair. "She's strong enough to lead the entire world into peace. Zechs believed in her."

"What about you?"

"I believe in her too," Noin replied.

"That's not what I meant," Sally returned, following her into the small common area of the apartment, seizing Noin's arm and turning her around so Noin was facing her. "How are *you* holding up?"

"I'm fine."

"Noin." Sally warned her not to try and hide.

"No, really," she insisted, forcing a smile to her lips. "I'm fine."

Sally leaned forward and embraced the other woman, hugging her tight. "It's okay to cry, you know."

"I know," the dark haired woman replied, her voice tight and soft. "But I'm afraid. I'm afraid that if I start again, I won't be able to stop, and I. I hate crying."

"Noin."

"It's okay. I'm okay. You'll see."

The door slid open for Lady Une without warning. The young woman halted just inside the doorway, blinking at the site of the two women holding each other. Her checks flushed. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm interrupting-"

"Colonel Une, wait!" Noin called out, stepping away from Sally and brushing off her outfit as she wiped away any moisture from her eyes. "I wanted to. to thank you."

Une stared at her, blinking her confusion. "Thank me.?"

"Yes," Noin sniffled and swallowed. "For fighting for peace, in the end."

Lady Une hung her head, her golden brow hair falling forward to curtain her face. "Your thanks are misplaced," she said just above a whisper. "I fought for Mister Trieze. It was *he* who fought for peace."

"I'm sorry," Noin said after a tense moment of silence. "For your loss."

Une gasped, head rearing up to look at the other woman-the same age as herself, a part of her mind remembered-with watery, red eyes. "And. yours," she managed to say around the lump of pain in her throat. Her chest was burning. "Zechs was. very brave. and noble." She blinked and dragged in a huge cooling breath of recycled air into her starving lungs. "His. sacrifice will be remembered by all."

Noin's head fell to her chest. "Perhaps it's selfish of me, but." She looked up, eyes watering. "I would rather he was remembered only by a few." She smiled. "That way, maybe they will remember him for who he truly was." She looked out into space. "I hope he's finally found what he was looking for."

Une nodded, almost absently.

Sally looked from one woman to the other. You could cut through the air with a bamboo stalk, she thought. "I could use a drink," she said aloud. "Hell! We should be celebrating the end of the 'War to End All Wars', right? The End of the 'War for Peace'!"

"Peace."

"Peace be with you."

"Sleep in heavenly peace."

"You know, it's Christmas Day."

"Isn't that supposed to be December 25th?"

Noin nodded. "Yes." She looked at her timepiece and held it up for the others to see. "It's after midnight. Merry Christmas."

"Peace on earth on Christmas Day," Une whispered. "How appropriate."

Sally smiled. "Well then, all the more reason for a toast!"

"Here, will this do?" Une asked, going over to a cabinet and pulling out a bottle. Sally took it from her and eyed it critically.

"*Nice* vintage."

"It is-was, his Excellency's," Une admitted, almost shyly.

Sally and Noin looked at her shocked. "What's it doing in here, then?"

"These were his rooms," Une announced calmly.

Sally and Noin both looked around the room, searching for something that screamed 'the General of the World Nations was here'.

"Well, shall we?" Une asked after a moment of awkwardness for her. "I'm sure I can locate us three glasses. That is, unless, you would. care rather to not drink.with me."

Noin hesitated a moment, past prejudices warring with present. And then she stepped away from Sally's side, crossing to take Lady Une's hand in hers. "The world's made peace, Colonel. Surely we can too."

Une looked up, eyes watering with gratitude, and she nodded. "Yes, Lieutenant Noin. I would like that."

Noin smiled. "I'm no longer a member of OZ, Colonel. 'Lieutenant' no longer applies to me."

Une smiled. "And OZ no longer exists." She extended her hand in greeting. "Hello, my name is Lady Anne Midi Une. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Noin paused, and then smiled, extending her own hand. "And I am Lucrezia Noin. But please, just call me Noin. All my friends do."

"And I'm Sally Po," Sally added in. "Now that that's done, let's see what can be done for some glasses, ne?"

 

 

"How are they?"

"Resting." The sixteen-year-old tugged at her tight ponytail, releasing the dark cherry black waves to fall around her shoulders as she fell into one of the four pilot seats in the cockpit.

"So what's this mean?" Ochenta Behr asked, running a hand through her chin- cropped, dark mane.

The two blondes sitting up front didn't look back, eyes locked on the console and view screen ahead of them. "What's what mean?" Blaire snapped, fiddling with the com unit.

"Well, Valdeon is dead, no?" Nita hedged. "I mean, Rini killed him. Isn't that what you said? So-what's going to happen? I mean, are they going to come chasing after *us* now? Are we going to prison? Are they going to kill us?"

"Who's this 'they'?" Kat demanded, finger-combing her now-loose hair.

"No one's going to prison," Blaire said before Nita could answer. "No one's going to kill us."

"But-"

Blaire whipped around in her seat. "Will you listen to me!"

The cockpit fell silent, two pairs of large eyes focused on the older blonde sibling.

"No *one* is going to prison and *no one* is going to come after us." Blair licked her dry lips. "Whoever knew about that satellite must have known Val was on it."

"There's no proof," Dev whispered.

"There was no one else there!" Kat cried, looking from the back of Dev's head to Blaire's angry blue eyes. "You were there, Blaire. You saw the place. It was deserted!"

"Yes," the blonde nodded. "So whoever was in charge will believe Valdeon is responsible for its destruction. They should have no reason to suspect us."

"But." Dev bit her lower lip, turning around to face her sisters. "What if they come after us? I mean, there was a lot of shit in there-right? Someone *had* to be footing the bill. and whoever that was, won't be very happy that there's nothing to show for it."

"Oh well!" Kat sang. "Too bad, so sad!"

"But what if they come after *us*!" Devenley cried. "If they blame Val, then they might take it out on his family!" She turned to her older sister. "We should at least warn the others! At the *very* least."

"No."

"But-"

"Shouldn't we tell them that Val is dead?" Nita asked.

"No." Blair shook her head. "Absolutely not."

"Blaire! Be reasonable!" Nita returned. "He's their brother! They should *know* he's dead!"

"Let them think he took off," Blaire answered.

"But, Blaire--!"

"Don't you see!" the older blonde girl cried. "If we tell them he's dead, they'll want to know why, how, when, how is it that *we* know. We don't want them asking questions that we don't want to answer!"

"I killed him," a quiet voice said. "You can tell them that."

"Rini!"

"Carina!"

"You should be resting," Blaire said without heat.

"And let you four make all the decisions," Jack gasped, pushing the smaller girl into the cockpit. "I don't think so."

"Jack!"

"Jacqueline! You should be in bed!"

"I'll live," the dark-haired girl replied, snatching the hair tie from Kat's idle hands and pulling the loose strands out of her face. "I'm too ornery to die. Ain't that right, Blaire?" She motioned Kat out of the chair and the younger sister got up. "We've got more important things to worry about here right now and I'm not about to be filled in on them later. So, the sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can get back to the bed. Deal?"

"Sleeping, huh?" Nita glared towards Kat.

"They *looked* like they were sleeping," the other girl replied, dropping down onto the arm of the chair.

"Enough," Blaire stopped them. "We have to plan our next move." She looked over to Jack, nodding.

"We don't know what shape Earth and the colonies'll be in when we get home-or even if they'll be there at all," the battered girl told them, meeting all their eyes. "So we have to make some choices."

"Who's side are we on." Dev whispered. They were quiet.

"Our own," Kat answered after a moment. She looked at them all. "First and foremost."

"And then?" Nita challenged.

"We're helping the gundam pilots now, aren't we?" Carina spoke up, leaning back against the wall, palms behind her, pressing into the cool metal surface.

"That's just for now," Kat answered.

"Are you suggesting we side with White Fang?" Nita attacked.

"No.!"

"Then the Earth Forces, perhaps?" the older sister continued.

"No." Kat frowned.

"Then what!"

"I'm saying we need to keep alert!" Kat shouted back. "And whatever we do, we do it together!"

"That goes without saying," Jack interjected, her voice soft and calm, yet hard as nails and determined at the same time, too. "That's why we're talking about this *now*, before we return to Peacemillion. We need to know what our stand will be."

"And what about me?" Rini spoke up. "Am I going to be included in this 'we'? Or are you just going to treat me like a baby who needs to be protected all the time?"

They were silent.

"You are our sister," Jack said when no one else did. "Of our blood. If this is what you really want-"

"It is!"

Jack shut her eyes tight, fighting back tears that threatened to fall. "Then. " She swallowed and shook her head. "We're not what you think we are, Rini," she said in a low, hoarse whisper.

"What?" the young girl cried sarcastically. "You're going to tell me you're not terrorists? Assassins? What is it you think *I* think you are? After today, what else *could* I think, huh? Tell me that!"

"Never mind, maybe we are," Kat mumbled under her breath.

"Rini, don't look like that," Jack choked. "Don't think like that. There's still a chance for you." She sniffed, rubbing her hand against her nose. "You don't have to do this, you know."

"'A chance'?" Rini mocked. "A chance to walk, Jack? Walk away from my sisters? My family? To just *forget* what happened today???"

"No!" Jack shouted. "A chance to escape the sickness, the hate and sickness of it all. the blood and the killing and-"

"I-I want to be with you," Rini swallowed. "I don't want to be left out anymore. I want to belong."

Jack closed her eyes against her baby sister's face and concentrated on her breaths. After a minute, when they blinked open again, Jack was calm and in control once more. "So be it," she said, her voice not wavering like before. "Welcome to the Angel Team, Rini."

"Momma used to call us all her little angels," Nita told her softly, smiling.

"So what do we do now?" Kat asked.

"I think I like the sound of that," Rini said, smiling broadly.

"The sound of what?"

"Of 'we'."

 

 

"My father was a doctor," Sally said, tipping her green glass goblet for another sip of the red rose wine. "Mn, my mother, was a healer."

The three woman were gathered around in a cozy circle around the low coffee table: Sally with her back to the sofa, her folded knees under the table; Une to her left, sitting in a similar position on the other end of the table; Noin stretched out on the sofa watching her wiggling, stocking-clad toes. All three of them were in various states of undress and well into their fourth bottle of wine. 'Tipsy' was reached a long time ago.

"I had been assisting them all my life, knew how to draw blood for an analysis, how to set broken bones, how to reduce fevers, and make pain killers from a snatch of weeds. Bullet wounds, knives and puncture wounds, even poisonings. They were kid's play to me." She studied her glass. "I guess it was only natural for me to join the Academy and 'study' medicine. I thought I could be like my father, legal, with a degree, but most of the classes were about things I'd been doing all my life. I was with older kids who knew less then me. The hardest part was learning all those damn technical names. I never saw the, or what nerves work when someone moves the little finger...."

"But you passed," Noin stated.

"Psf! Of course!" Sally reached for the bottle. Anne handed it over.

"Did you ever regret joining the Federation?" the sandy-brown haired woman asked, sipping her own wine.

"No," Sally answered honestly, shaking her head. "I used them as much as they tried to use me. I got that little piece of paper that says I'm legally capable of practicing medicine. And when things started getting worse, I left. Oz's take over of the Federation made my disappearance easier. I guess I should thank you for that much."

Anne shook her head empathically. "No. It was sloppily done. I didn't realize it at the time. It could have been done better."

"Hn! I think we did a fine job," Noin put in, holding her glass up.

"We lost a lot of good people in the coup d' Etat," Anne murmured. "I wonder now what Master Treize was thinking."

"Why do you call him 'Master' all the time!" Sally slapped her glass down, the red liquid slipping over the sides onto her hands.

Anne watched the wine settle in the green goblet. "I." She shook her head. "Because that's what he was," she answered finally. "He was my master; his wish, my command; his order, my doctrine; his well-being, my life."

"Yeah, well he's gone now," Noin replied harshly, sitting up. "No more master, djinni. It's time to break that bottle!"

Anne shook her head, sad and somewhat lost at the idea of 'no more master'. "I don't think." She shook her head again and laughed. "Free." Her shoulders rocked. "I've never been free." She whispered, swallowing hard.

Sally and Noin frowned, but didn't press. They didn't have too.

"Ever since I was little. There was always. someone." Anne fingered her glass. "My father, the people he worked for. my masters." She closed her eyes, trying to block out the images. They wouldn't go away.

"I don't remember my mother," she whispered. "She died, when I was very young. My governess said she's married beneath herself, that my father was no good for her and he'd kill her. She was right. She died in childbirth.

"I am second out of six children. I haven't seen or heard from my brothers since I was eight years old. My father." Anne tried to moisten her dry lips. "He. gambled a lot. Lost a lot of money, owed a lot of people." She took a deep breath. "He lost too much and owed to the wrong people. He. They hurt him, badly. They tried to get the money from us, but. we were just children. Frances, my older brother was sick, very, very sick."

Neither women commented on the tears that were starting to slip over the eighteen-year-old's cheeks, nor did they try to stop her story.

"So they. they used me, instead." Anne shrugged, snorting and rubbing her cheeks with the back of her hand. "I didn't care. I did what they wanted me to do. They. they told me if I didn't, that they'd. kill my brothers and father. I didn't think to wonder if they weren't already dead. I just. did what I was told and I. hurt, a lot of other people." She stared off into space. "I hurt people that I cared about. and I killed off myself in the process. Killed off the little girl who I was. Killed 'Anne' to save her."

"I'm sorry," Sally said softly, reaching out to touch the girl's shoulder.

Anne looked up, startled, sniffling and blinking. And then she smiled. "It's okay. It's water under the bridge, they say." She shrugged. "When I'd done all I could for them, they turned me over to the Academy. And that's where Master Treize found me, and he took me under his wing. When he did that, I swore I would do anything he asked of me. It was Master Treize who found the part of me who was 'Anne', what little still existed of her, and coaxed her back out." She smiled. "He gave me back my life, I think. Nothing I could have done would ever repay him for that."

"A second chance." Noin murmured. She smiled. "That's what Zechs wanted. It's one of the things Treize offered him. A chance to get back at the people who'd hurt him." She shook her head. "General Khushrenada was an amazing man."

Sally smiled. "Yes, he was, wasn't he."

"I remember the first time I met him," Noin whispered. "It was after I found Zechs again. He and the general were already friends and he introduced me. I should have paid more attention to him. to them. I might have saved myself some heartache, huh?" She smiled for Sally, but her eyes were still red and bloodshot from her earlier bout of crying.

"What? You mean it wasn't a love at first sight?" Sally teased.

"At first sight." Noin's smile fell and she stared off. "Do you know, I was two or three when I first met him?" She nodded. "It was when Princess Relena was born-but, of course, I didn't know it at the time. I hardly remember it now." She squinted. "I know. we were at the castle, to celebrate. and, as was custom, all the children were left in one room with their governesses and nannies. That's where I first saw him, I think." She became sad. "I didn't see him again until the assault on Sanq came. My. my mother had been at the palace. She. she managed to get Zechs out and she brought him home.

"I remember, I was in my bed. I must have been sleeping but the bombs and gunfire woke me up. When she came home, I was awake, listening to them fight. My father was yelling at her for bringing Zechs home with her. My mother was crying. Zechs was crying. I wanted to cry too. I was scared.

"I tried to see them from my bedroom, but I didn't want them to see me. she was in the rocking chair, holding him. screaming. it was so loud. I could still hear the gunfire from the city-proper, screaming. I ran back to my bed and tried to hide."

Noin swallowed, well aware of the burning in her eyes and the burning in her chest and throat. "He wasn't there when I woke up the next morning. Neither was my father. I didn't see him again for another three years, when we were both in the Academy. By then, he was already calling himself 'Zechs'."

They sat in silence.

"I didn't know you were also from Sanq," Anne's soft voice broke the quiet.

Noin gave her a sad smile. "There's a lot you don't know about me. Anne."

 

 

"Thank you, M. Lamar," Relena was saying, bowing in the doorway of the room she'd been escorted to. She quickly palmed the door controls before the over- zealous man could follow her inside. She turned to face the room, sighing as she fell back against the door. Alone at last.

She'd arrived on L1 approximately four hours ago. And in that time she had been introduced to what she was convinced were every important colony representative and their subordinates. Twice over. She sighed walking into the-suite.

"It's very big for just one person," she mused, trying to brush off her weariness. She'd been up for over 28 hours now and, until Stella Leveret-a representative from L3-reached her, no one seemed ready to release her or show her to a room where she could rest and freshen up. That's where Byron Lamar came into the picture.

Mme Leveret had charged her young protégé-probably only a year or two older than Relena-with finding her a room and escorting her there. That was fine, but he had made no subtle innuendos about his desire to accompany her *inside* her room.

Relena sighed again and moved through the suite, observing the common area with it's sofa, love seat, reading chair, coffee table, and end table, complete with lamps, pictures of Monet and Theophilas, and knick-knacks. She entered the small kitchenette that was equipped with every convenience known to man. Relena spotted the replicator and sighed. There'd be no home-cooked meals for her for the next couple of days, at least, she told herself, already missing her chef at Peacecraft Manor. "Maybe I can have Noin ask Alauna to send me some of her butter biscuits," she consoled herself, exiting the kitchen.

There was a short corridor that led to two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and then a "master suite". Her small suitcase was set on a luggage stand near the closet, left open. Her blouses, skirts, and dresses already hanging in the closet. She shook her head at the waste.

"Not only do they leave me in a suite that can easily accommodate two more people," she sighed, swallowing a yawn. "But they clean up after me. Mother, if you could see your daughter now."

She suddenly had an overwhelming urge to call her mother back on Earth. Belatedly, she realized how worried the woman would be about her, knowing she had gone to space after her brother. She went back into the common area and sat down at the vidcom, keying in her personal code.

'I'm sorry; that number has not been recognized by this systems' datacorp. Please try again or press *01 for operator assistance.'

Relena stared at the screen, blinking-at first annoyed and then amused. She laughed, her shoulders rocking as she slumped over onto the console, burying her face in her arms. She wasn't sure when the laughter turned to tears because she fell asleep there.

 

 

Whatever decision the six Behr sisters came to was proved moot when the newsfeeds came in. The Earth Forces had surrendered. The colonies had rejected White Fang. And White Fang no longer existed. The war was over. There was no winner.

"There never is in war," Blaire said, maneuvering their ship through the debris.

"Still," Kat moped, "It kinda sucks that we missed all the action."

"Our part was not unnecessary," the blonde young woman told the dark-haired teenager. "We helped extend peace."

"You mean 'achieve' peace, don't you?"

Blaire smiled. "Why don't you join the others. I can pilot this ship asleep."

"Yeah, well, I'd rather not try it if you don't mind," Kat returned, twirling a long dark lock of hair around a finger. "Besides, they'll sleep easier without me back there, tossing and turning."

"It bothers you," Blaire stated, gliding between two floating pieces of an Aries. "Seeing Jack when she's been hurt."

Katalynna Behr looked away, looking out the cockpit window to the battlefield graveyard, not bothering to reply.

"You could have tried to stop him," Blaire said, keeping her eyes on the course in front of her.

"I didn't see you jumping to help," Kat spat, following a mobile suit arm until it passed out of sight.

"I tried," Blaire whispered. "Jack stopped me."

Kat whipped around in her seat. "WHY?" she cried, confused and hurt and feeling almost like she'd been betrayed but not knowing why.

Blaire spared her sister a quick look. It was all that was need. Kat cried out, scrubbing out her eyes with the heel of her hands. "Why! Why! Why!" she moaned. "I hate him! I hate him!"

"He's dead," Blaire reminded her softly.

"Well then I hate her!" Kat shouted, tearing her hands from her face and glaring at her overly calm sister.

"No you don't," the blonde replied, her voice soothing. "You're mad at yourself for not doing anything, and you're mad at Jack for allowing it to go on for so long. but you don't hate her."

"We should have killed him sooner!" Kat spat vehemently.

"He was family."

"He wasn't family!" Kat shouted. "He wasn't *your* family!"

Blaire was quiet for a second, before quietly repeating, "He was family."

'Unidentified shuttle, you have entered a restricted area. Please turn around now.'

Blaire reached for the com unit. "This is the shuttlecraft Shooting Star. We're looking for Peacemillion to return some of her people to her. If you could just direct us the way, we'll be outta your hair in no time."

'Shooting Star, this is the Bridgelight, Peacemillion is regrettably lost.'

In the co-pilot's seat, Kat gasped. "Understood that, Bridgelight. Can you tell me where I might find Howard Green, then?"

'The old man's up over on MOII, Star. I'll call ahead and clear your passage. Oh, and watch out for floating debris. It's a war zone in there!'

"Ha ha," Blaire said deadpan, cutting off the com unit before it could pick up her voice. She looked over to her sister's worried face. "Don't worry. Doc's probably up there on MOII with the rest of the folks."

"Do you think.?"

"I don't think she'd stay on a ship that even the captain abandoned," Blaire retorted. "Go on," she said, nodding her head towards the back. "Go catch a quick nap. I'll call you up when we get ready to dock."

"Are you su-"

"Go." Blaire shoot her little sister a glare. "Don't *make* me repeat myself, girl."

Kat grinned. "Fine, fine, I'm going." She paused at the doorway. "You think those cute gundam pilots are there, too?"

"Doesn't matter if they are."

"Why not?" she asked frowning.

Blaire sighed and turned around to pin her sister with a *look*. "It *might* have escaped your notice, Kat, but all those boys are so-way up into each other, they won't even look at a girl, let alone you."

"You mean-" Kat blinked. Four times.

The blonde young woman smirked and turned back around in her seat. "Oooooh yeah," she replied. "I could tell that without even reading their minds-and you *don't* want to know what they were thinking." She grinned. "Then again, it might appeal to your perverted sense of humor. Now to bed with you!" She waved her hand. "And pleasant dreams."

"You. Are *so*. *Mean*." Kat grumbled, leaving the cockpit. Finally by herself, Blaire Behr chuckled.

 

 

After Heero left Duo to his silent observation of the girl, he began making his "rounds". He stayed some time with the two Gundam pilots before going off in search of the people in charge of the hunk of metal they were all stationed on. His search brought him to the three woman in one of the many cafeterias, nursing strong cups of black coffee and looking like hell.

"Oiya, Heero!" Sally Po called over to him, oblivious to the two wincing women on either side of her. "What are you doing up so early? You should be sleeping in."

Heero took in the sight of the three women-at one time they were all enemies, his mind noted off-handedly-sitting together like a small clique. "Hn."

"Ah, spoken like a true wise man." Noin nodded, trying to keep her eyes open and focused on the young Japanese man standing near their table. "Grab yourself a cup of coffee-"

"Don't, if you value your life. Noin made it-I've tasted better stuff when I was staying with the guerilla fighters on Earth."

"Oh, shut up," Noin spouted, tossing a packet of sugar at Sally. "No one's forcing you to drink it."

"Whatever," the sandy-blonde-haired woman retorted, tearing open the sugar packet and dumping it into her cup. "Pull up a chair and sit on the floor."

Lady Une didn't even look up from her coffee cup. Sally and Noin were adding more sugar to their cups. Heero hesitated a second before going over to the counter and pouring himself a cup of tea.

"So what are you doing up so early anyway?" Sally asked when he returned with the steaming cup.

"It's 7a.m," he stated, sitting down in the empty chair at their table.

"Yeah, like I said, early." Sally sipped her coffee and grimaced.

"What can we do for you, Heero?" Lady Une asked suddenly, looking up from her coffee cup

"What's going on?" he asked straightforward.

"Nani?"

"What's happening?" he repeated.

"Well, Relena left late last night to meet with the heads of the colonies," Noin told him. "There'll be a vid-conference between Earth and the colonies, I would imagine. They'll probably lock themselves in a large room for 3 months, pushing around ideals and concepts until they can all agree on something. They're trying to create a new Government and it will take some time."

Heero nodded. "Relena will do it."

"Yes, I'm sure she will," Une mused.

"What now?" he asked

"Now we pick up the pieces," Sally answered, smacking her lips against the still-bitter coffee.

"Howard's agreed to have his people survey the destruction of all the remaining mobile suits-I imagine you want to keep the gundams with you," Une offered.

Heero nodded again. "05 has already left." They looked at him, questions written plainly on their faces, but they didn't ask and he didn't tell.

"Most of the soldiers will be returning home to their families, to try and live a normal life," Noin spoke up.

"Hn. There's no such thing as a normal life." The three young woman frowned at him, at their coffees, at life in general.

"There will be a large outcry for employment," Sally forewarned.

"A possible recession for both Earth and the colonies, but we'll prevail," Une affirmed.

"What are your plans now, Heero?" Noin asked, turning focus back on the young Japanese pilot. "The war's over. You don't have to fight anymore."

"I will be heading back to L2 with Duo," he answered, a light flickering in his dark blue eyes.

"You *will* keep in touch, though, right?" Noin pressed.

Heero looked at her. Just, looked at her. And then he nodded. "If you wish."

"I will try to keep your names from enter the news feeds," Une offered with a weak smile. "So you may have some semblance of peace."

"Arigato, Lady," he acknowledged, giving her a nod. He pushed up from the table, satisfied with their discussion. "I will contact you."

"Heero!"

He paused, turning to look back at them.

"Thank you," Lady Une said, her voice ringing strong and proud. Sally and Noin both smiled and nodded to him. "On behalf of the Earth and the colonies, thank you."

Heero nodded once more and then left as suddenly as he'd appeared.

"This is their peace, too," Noin whispered.

"No one deserves it more, if you ask me," Sally put in.

Une just smiled and nodded, looking back down at her coffee cup.

"Commander Une! Commander Une!" A young ensign ran into the cafeteria and up to the table, breathless, his face flushed with an excited glow. "We've recovered both bodies," he gasped, beaming up at her.

She was standing, her chair crashing to the floor behind her. Sally and Noin looked up, surprised.

"Report," Une barked, sliding a pair of glasses onto her nose.

The young ensign snapped to attention. "Report in from the Andromeda. The bodies of one General Trieze Khushrenada of the Earth Forces and one Milliardo Peacecraft of White Fang have been recovered and are being brought to Hanger Bay 6, ma'am."

Lady Une was already on the move, Sally and Noin scrambling up after her.

"Ma'am!" the ensign called out before she'd made the doors. She turned on heel, freezing him with a glare. "One is still alive."

"Who?" Noin cried, reaching out and clenching Sally's hand which had somehow found its way into hers.

The boy looked genuinely apologetic. "I don't know, ma'am."

"Understood," Une replied, her voice clipped. She hesitated. "Thank you, ensign, for bringing me this news immediately."

The boy snapped to attention, but the three women had already turned and exited.

 

End Part 4 Act 1

 

 


	2. Act 2

**Part One Act Two**

 

"This is the Kitchen and Living Room, of course,” Duo was saying, leading Heero through the home. “Small, but nice, like I said, right?"

The Japanese boy didn’t answer as he followed the American. It was small but he’d lived in worse. ‘Much worse,’ his mind reminded him. In truth, the house was not very much unlike many of the safe houses they stayed in during the war— before Quatre started insisting they stay at his family’s residences, which were conveniently scattered across the globe as well as the colonies. There wasn’t a major country or city that didn’t boast a Winner residence—high-rise apartment, mansion, cottage tucked away in the woods. The Winner family boosted a wide array of styles in living. Whether or not the selected residence was currently occupied… that was another matter.

Hilde’s home was completely furnished, he noted, as they walked through the kitchen and living room. And nicely so. It was a neat, orderly but somehow completely cluttered area. As Heero was trying to figure that one out, Duo led him into a short hallway.

"And here's your room…” the braided boy announced, throwing open a door. “The bathroom’s right across the hall,” he added, waving a hand back to the closed door opposite the room he was entering.

Duo gave a little leap and pounced onto the bed, turning to look back at Heero. The other youth was hovering in the doorway, looking in. “I sleep downstairs in the basement,” Duo tried to reassure him. “And Hilde's room is the one down the hall."

“Hn.”

Duo fought a pang of nervousness that threatened to overwhelm him. “If you don’t like—“

“The room is fine, Duo,” he replied, a little too quickly. Heero stepped inside and let his bag fall from his shoulder. This room was to be ‘home’ for a while. For as long as Hilde and Duo allowed him to stay.

Duo flashed one of his trademark smiles and pushed up so he was sitting back against the headboard of the bed. “So… When do we start picking our classes, huh?” He snatched up a small blue ball that was left on the nightstand and began playing with it. “I was thinking of maybe taking ‘Spatial Physics’ or ‘Human Sexuality’. Maybe even an English class or two.”

Heero watched the braided boy lay back on the bed *he* was supposed to sleep in as he tossed the small blue ball from one hand to the other. “Hn.”

He surveyed the room. It was compact, but serviceable. A large window was set in a cut-out in one corner. It would be ideal for a desk, he thought. The bed was full-sized with a simple dark blue patchwork quilt thrown over it. The closet hid behind two sliding mirrors and was large enough to hold six times his small wardrobe. There was a four-drawer bureau standing across from the bed and a one-drawer nightstand next to the bed. There was a shaded lamp on the nightstand, a rocking fan with attached light hanging from the ceiling, and the carpet beneath his feet was a bluish-grey. And there were boxes *everywhere*.

“I’m sure they probably already have some schedule or something they want you to follow,” Duo was going on. “But that’s no problem, right? I mean, it can’t be that bad if it’s a university course, right? I wonder what courses they’re offering. Hey, Heero? Have you looked it up yet?” He laughed. “What am I saying! You’ve probably already registered, right? So what have you signed us up for?”

“Hn.” Heero inspected one of the boxes, moving the folded top apart to peer inside. “General Education Exam. This Saturday.” The box had men’s clothes in it. “Pass it,” he said, looking up over at Duo, “and you get your GED.”

“What?” Duo practically fell off the bed. “You’re making me take a *test*?”

“We’re both taking the test,” he corrected, walking to the alcove and looking out the window. It was a one-story house. If he needed to get out, it wouldn’t be a problem. Plus the locks were good—it wouldn’t be easy for just anyone to enter the room from the outside. He looked over to the braided pilot. “What’s wrong?”

“Hee~ro! A *te~est*???” Duo whined, looking at his partner. “Couldn’t you have just *forged* us a couple of GEDs? That *was* my intention, you know…”

Heero sighed and turned to face the bed. “It’s a general ed exam, Duo,” he answered. “If you can’t pass it then you have no business trying to get into the university.”

“That’s cruel,” Duo pouted. “Of *course* I’ll pass it—“

“Then you shouldn’t be complaining.”

“—But to put myself through all that *stress* when *all* you have to *do* is overwrite a *few* *files*…”

Heero’s pointed stare drew a halt to the braided boy’s complaint. “There is no stress,” he replied when the other finally stopped talking. “It’s all on stuff we should already know.”

“’We’?” Duo jumped. “What, are you taking it, too?”

Heero sighed and moved to look in the closet. “I already said I was,” he answered.

“Really? Cool!” Duo beamed, sitting up cross-legged on the bed. “Then it won’t be *sooo* bad!”

“Hn. You’re weird,” is all Heero said, noting that the closet was full of boxes, too.

“Duo! Where are you, you lazy bum!”

“Oi, Hilde! What’cha yellin’ for? I’m in here with Heero!”

Hilde appeared in the doorway, her arms loaded with grocery bags. “I’m not going to even *ask* how you got in without the key to the front door—I’m sure I don’t want to know, but I *am* gonna insist you go out and carry in the rest of the bags,” she told the braided boy. “Here, get off your lazy ass and take these into the kitchen for me, will ya?” she asked, shoving the bags into his arms and moving past him.

“Jeesh,” Duo grumbled, climbing to his feet and taking the bags from her. “Ya don’t hafta be so *mean* about it…”

“You’d never do it otherwise!” she snapped, smacking his stomach. “Oh, and before I forget! I ran into Eddie. He said to drop him a line if I saw you.”

“Wonder what *he* wants,” Duo mused, juggling the bags and heading out.

“Oh, Heero, I’m so sorry!” She blushed. “It’s a mess in here, but if you just give me some time, I’ll clean it out, I promise!”

“It’s okay,” Heero replied, somewhat uncomfortable with the way the girl just came and took over. He stood near the corner alcove as she bustled from one place to another. “I don’t take up much space.”

“Don’t be silly!” she cried, looking into the closet and then inside some boxes. “This is your room now. You don’t want to have to share it with a bunch of old junk! I should have gone through these things a long time ago, anyway. I don’t know *why* I bother to keep any of it—“

“Who’s is it?” he wondered.

“My parents’,” she answered, looking into another box. “They died, killed in a shuttle crash two years ago. Botched landing.”

Heero looked at the girl, wondering if he should say something, offer some form of condolence or some such thing. He was relieved when she continued talking, because that meant *he* didn’t have to say anything.

“Actually, this house was theirs, too. I was their only child, so when they died, it all came to me. The government here on L2 is so crappy that they didn’t even bother to appoint me a legal guardian until my 16th and I never bothered to point it out to them. This is a really good neighborhood here and we watch out for each other. So when they died, my neighbors all looked in on me and made sure I was getting along just fine.”

Heero frowned. The girl didn’t look old enough to be almost-eighteen. In fact, she was shorter than Duo, and the braided pilot was shorter than *him*. “How old are you?” he finally asked.

“Huh? What? Oh, I’m seventeen,” she smiled at him. “Don’t look it, I know. When I was little I caught a bit of a plague that hit L2.” She shrugged. “I’ve always been a little smaller than everyone else because of it.” She grinned, and Heero was reminded of Duo’s smirk. “Makes me a better candidate for piloting!”

“You’re a pilot.” It wasn’t a question, but she answered it like it was anyway.

“Yeah, I guess you could say it’s in my blood,” she said, moving a box to the side. “My dad was a inter-colonial pilot until the blockade. Kinda funny how he died when he wasn’t even in the cockpit, huh?” She shrugged again, digging into another box. “I already knew how to pilot. That’s why I signed up with Oz— and the money was good. But then I met up with Duo, and well…” She shrugged again.

“Anyway, just give me a day or two and I’ll have all these boxes moved out of here. I guess I should really just call up Lenny and ask him to drive them over to Charity Row…”

“Charity Row?”

“Homeless side of town,” Duo answered, voice low, chin pointed to his chest as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Where all the orphans and people who can’t find work go. Used to be a nice residential area before it went ghetto. Now ‘charitable’ people dump off their unwantables and garbage there on the streets.”

“Duo…” Hilde bit her lip. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“Hey! Don’t worry about it, Hil!” Duo cut her off with a grin. “It’s people like you folks who kept people like me alive.” He winked. “Charity Row is a whole colony’s effort, after all!”

“Duo…”

He shrugged, cutting her off before she could try to form words of apology. “Don’t bother calling up one of the guys. I can take whatever you don’t want anymore down to the old neighborhood. Wouldn’t mind taking the opportunity to look around, anyway. See what’s been going on since I left, you know? Make sure some of the kids are keeping straight. Oh, hey! Tina called while I was on with Eddie. Said to call her back when you get the chance.” He gave the doorframe a light slap. “I’ll be in my room if anyone wants me.”

And then he was gone. Hilde slumped onto a corner of the bed. “Duo…”

“What’s wrong?” Heero asked, turned away from the empty doorway.

Hilde sighed. “Duo grew up on the streets of Miramar.”

“Miramar?”

“Charity Row’s real name.” She shook her head. “Miramar was hit hardest… It was already in trouble before the plague came. Rumor has it that the plague hit there first, and it hit there the hardest. My grandmother and uncle died from it… It was horrible; watching the people you love and care about waste away and fester into death…” She shook her head. “Duo’s an orphan, too. Only, he doesn’t even know who his parents are. It’s a shame…”

Heero wasn’t paying any attention anymore. He was looking out the door, where the braided pilot had been moments before. ‘You’re an orphan, too…’

 

 

“Unimpeachable.”

“Untouchable; can’t touch this!”

“Can not be accused or called into question; blameless.”

“Close enough…”

“Abnegate.”

“Uh… uh… wait a minute. I know this one… really…”

“To deny oneself, to give up something.”

“Yeah, yeah… that sounds right.”

“Acidulous.”

“Acid-like?”

“And sour. Good.”

“Well, gee, thanks, Hee-chan!”

Heero frowned but didn’t comment on the new pet name his partner had acquired. He reached for another index card. “Adamant.”

“Adamant refusal… oooh… I *know* this one!” Duo’s face scrunched up and his mind raced to find the definition of the word.

“Stubborn,” Heero supplied. “Completely inflexible, unyielding.”

“Hm, wonder why that sounds familiar?” Duo commented, smiling prettily at him.

“Adulterate.”

Duo smirked. “To have sex with someone who’s not your husband or wife.”

Did Heero’s cheeks tinge when he said the word ‘sex’? Duo sat up and leaned closer.

“Hn.” Heero frowned but didn’t move away. “To soil, to contaminate, and to taint,” he read off.

“Wh-at? Here, give me that!” Duo snatched the card from his hand, flipping it over to read the definition. “You know,” he said, handing it back to Heero, “I wonder how many of these are really gonna be on this test…”

“Hn.” Heero took all the cards and began mixing them up as Duo took to pacing the basement. It wasn’t really a bedroom, but something about the dark room must have appealed to the braided pilot for him to have slept there instead of the room upstairs where Heero was sleeping. The bed was smaller—probably a twin— the room was darker; only one small window up in the corner allowed light in, plus the hanging light bulb. There was a table set up in the corner of the room with papers and blueprints strewn across its surface—Duo must have planned his attacks from here, Heero reasoned. And there were two ways in and out—three if you counted the window. Two doors—one leading up into the house, one leading up into the back yard. Strategically, Heero realized it wasn’t a bad choice. If Duo was keeping late hours, then he wouldn’t have to wake her to get in when he came home at night. There was even a small toilet and sink curtained off in one of the corners.

“Who even uses words like these?” Duo was complaining.

Heero refocused his attention on the braided boy. “Evidently college students,” was his reply. He looked at one of the cards. “Lampoon, to make fun of, satirize, parody, or mock.”

“Give me that!” Duo snatched the card from him, reading the definition. “Why the hell not just say ‘make fun of, satirize, or mock’ in the *first* place!”

Heero retrieved the card and started mixing them up again. Duo watched him, arms crossed, scowling pout on his face until he realized that’s all Heero was going to do. “Damn, Heero, whatcha’ trying’ to do?” he finally asked, leaning up against the wall.

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” the Japanese boy returned, not looking up from the cards.

“It *looks* like you’re bored and playing with them,” Duo retorted, standing up and reaching for the cards. “Here, give me that. That’s no way to shuffle. Let an old pro show ya how it’s done…”

Duo split the deck in half and then preceded to shuffle them, invoking fancy little tricks to try and impress his Japanese friend. Heero just leaned back against the wall—headboard being absent—and watched, face as stoic as ever. “Hn.”

Duo grinned and smacked the cards down in front of him. “Okay, hit me.” One eyebrow raised and Heero *looked* at the braided, grinning boy. “Go ‘head. Ask me!”

He reached for the top card on the deck. “Demagoguery.”

“Leads or rules by manipulation; despot, dictator. Example: Oz.” Duo smirked and winked.

“Denude.”

Duo’s grin widened—if that was at all possible. “To *strip*,” he gave a little wiggle, “lay bare, or erode.”

Heero frowned, flipping through the cards. “Hn. Francophile.”

Duo’s lips pursed. “An enthusiast on the subject of France and French culture, right?”

“Flotsam,” Heero asked without answering.

“Flo~oating debris” –Duo moved his hand, stimulating ‘floating’— “unimportant miscellaneous material. Sorta like this exam, don’t ja think, Hee-chan?”

“Idiosyncrasy.”

“Characteristic peculiarity of habit; eccentricity.”

“Jocund.”

“Merry, high-spirited, jolly.”

“Nepotism.”

“Favoritism to a friend or relative in business or in politics.”

“Omnipotent.”

“All potent, all powerful, unlimited in authority and influence!”

Heero looked up from the cards. “A minute ago you didn’t know these words,” he stated.

Duo smiled at him, laying back down across the bed. “A minute ago,” he replied, “I’d never seen or heard most of those words, let alone the definition.” He rolled over onto his back, a little blue ball magically appearing in his hands.

“So now that you have, you know them all?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Duo answered off-handedly. Heero didn’t reply, he just sat there watching him. After a moment, Duo gave in and rolled onto his side, facing him. “Look, it’s sorta like photographic memory, you know? But it’s not, ‘cause I don’t *see* any pictures, see? I just, sorta, like… *know*.”

Heero stared at him for another second and Duo was about to turn around and forget about it, but then he nodded. “Hai.”

Duo looked back. “That’s an affirmative,” he teased.

“Hey guys?” Hilde called down from the kitchen steps. “I’m going over to Kimmy’s for dinner so you’re on your own!”

“What about us?!” Duo called up.

“There’s food in the fridge, use it!” came the reply.

“You’re a cruel woman, Hilde!”

“That’s why you love me so much!” The laughter that infused to voice was infectious enough to even seduce a smile from the Japanese pilot—though Duo missed it. “You guys try not to have too much fun, alright? And Duo? Please— No more explosives in the house, okay?”

“Auh, but *Hilde*--!”

“And no thermal thing-a-ma-jigs, either!”

“Then where—“

“You still have the shed, and the backyard. And the old garage. Hey! Now there’s an idea.” Hilde came down a couple of steps until she could bend over and see them both laying on the bed. “Why don’t you take Heero down to the garage, Duo? I’m sure he would like a chance to see the colony a bit.”

Duo looked over to Heero with the unspoken question. The other boy shrugged. “Hey, Hilde, you and Kimmy have fun tonight, alright? And give her a kiss from me!” Duo wiggled his eyebrows and smooched his lips together.

Hilde laughed and shook her head, climbing back up the steps. “Sure, Duo, sure. You guys have fun, okay?”

“Alright, bye, Hilde!”

“Bye, Duo! Bye Heero!”

“Ja,” came a breathed response. Duo turned on the bed, searing his partner with a look.

“Okay, what’s that one mean?”

Heero’s brow arched. “What’s what mean?”

“What you just said. ‘Ja’. What’s it mean?”

“Hn. It’s…” Heero’s head tilted to the side—just a fraction of an inch, but it was enough to make Duo bite his lip and squeeze at his heart. ‘What was it about him…?’

“It’s like saying ‘bye’,” Heero finally answered.

“’Bye’, huh? Just ‘ja’?”

“Nn. ‘Ja ne’.”

“Aah…” Duo mused, rolling the little blue ball between his palms. “And all these grunts you do. They really mean something, too, right?” he teased, grinning up through his bangs.

Heero swallowed. There was something about the way Duo looked… looking at him like that, that… He shook his head. “Hn.”

“That means ‘yes’, right?” Duo grinned.

Heero *stared* at him. “No? Well, hmm… wait a minute, I’m sure I can get it—“

“Baka.”

Duo climbed up the bed until he was hovering extremely close to the other boy. “What’s the mean . . ., I wonder… You seem to like calling me that…”

His breath puffed against his face. Heero swallowed again and ducked out from under the braided boy. “Didn’t you want to show me something?” he asked, standing beside the bed.

Duo slumped onto his stomach and turned to look up at him. “Yeah, sure,” he huffed. ‘But you’re not cooperating,’ he added mentally. ‘C’mon, Heero! Stop throwing me mixed-signals!’

“Duo?”

He sighed and climbed off the bed. “Uh, yeah, the garage,” he said, grabbing his leather jacket from where it hung over a chair. “It’s nothing fancy or anything like PeaceMillion or what the sweepers got, but it’s a fun place. Sid keeps a lot of spare parts around and has a good deal set up with the salvagers in the district,” he added, climbing up the steps that lead out.

“Hn.”

“Yeah, I worked with him a bit for the time I was here,” Duo was still going on. “His wife does art; you’ll see. He complains all the time of her stealing his junk and then cluttering up the place. They’re a riot, they really are. But Norma makes some of the best goulash I’ve ever had.”

“Hn.”

“Oiya! We’ve *got* to do something about your conversation skills, Heero! Really!”

The Japanese boy smiled at Duo’s back, pulling the door closed behind him. “Baka.”

 

 

They continued to study for the GED and fill out the college applications, much to Duo's annoyance. "We're citizens now, Duo. We can't just go hacking and slashing into records and pasting ourselves in."

Getting into the general requirement courses *did* take a bit of ‘hack and slash’ work on Heero’s part—but the Japanese boy wasn’t about to tell his partner about that. And since they *were* general requirement courses, he had a perfect excuse for why all their classes were together.

“LAE 1101?” Duo read from the sheet Heero had handed him as he paced the bedroom in his black pants and a white colored shirt. “BIO 1101? HPC 1012? STA 1010? Heero, what *are* these things?” he asked, looking over to the teen sitting at the desk.

“Modern Languages, Biology, World History Pre-Colony, Statistical Math, and Composition,” Heero answered, not needing to look away from his computer screen as his fingers flew over the keyboard.

“Yeah, but what happened to all the cool classes we were going to take, huh?” The braided boy flopped onto the bed with a pout.

“Sh,” Heero commanded, turning the volume up on the computer.

“Newly-appointed Vice-Minister Dorlian will be traveling through all the colonies to inspect the amount of damages and recovery needed to—“

Duo looked up and, sure enough, there, playing across the screen was a feed of Relena coming out of a building somewhere on one of the colonies and getting into a waiting vehicle. He shot a look at Heero, hoping to gauge the other’s reaction. As expected, the Japanese youth remained motionless, his face a mask as he studied the feed.

“Relena’s bound to have a number of enemies right now,” he mused, wondering what the other was thinking.

“That’s to be expected,” Heero replied, severing the feed and turning away from his computer. “Are you ready?”

Duo shot him a trademark grin, pushing up the bed and stretching. “Ready as I’ll every be. *How* easy is this test gonna be again?”

“Easy.” Heero’s eyes drank in the shameless display in front of him and he shifted in his seat, swallowing, thankful for the pair of jeans Hilde had handed him earlier that day. “You can’t go around here wearing spandex all the time, fly-boy. People will start thinking things,” she had told him. He wondered what she meant, but conceded it would be better if he blended in more with his surroundings. And since he wouldn’t be going on anymore missions, he didn’t need to worry about being free to move around as much.

“Oh, well, heck!” Duo threw his hands over and behind his head. “I guess it’s still an excuse to party. There’s this new little club that opened up in the Pompano District.” He snatched up his black jacket, slipping it over the white- colored shirt. “Supposed to be a real sweet dig. I was thinking maybe you’d wanna come with me tonight, or something?”

It took Heero a moment to push aside thoughts of the body in front of him and concentrate on what that body was saying instead. A club, tonight. Hn. “Hn,” he replied, standing up and reaching for his own blue jacket. “You can’t count on L2’s weather,” Hilde told him, handing him the jacket. “It can be warm one minute and cold the next. Best to just keep a jacket with you at all times.”

Duo grinned. “Hey, is Japanese in this Modern Language class of ours?” he quipped, walking out ahead of Heero.

The Japanese boy smiled and shook his head at the braided one’s back. “Baka.”

 

 

The test was easy—no, easier than easy. Duo couldn’t believe Heero had made them go through this minor formality. He bounced over to Heero where the Japanese youth sat in the waiting room, waiting for Duo to pick up his results and join him so they could leave.

“How’d ya do?” he asked, nearly avoiding crashing into Heero.

“Hn.” He handed the boy his result sheet and Duo whistled.

“Perfect score, not bad,” Duo said, handing the sheet back. “But of course, that’s only to be expected from Mr. Perfect here, right?” Duo took off, leading the way out of the building before Heero could respond. “You don’t have any clubbing clothes,” he said, turning around to look at Heero.

His eyes racked him from head to toe and back again. “But I guess you look good just the way you are.” He turned again and bounced away down the sidewalk. “I, on the other hand, need to stop by Ken’s for a minute. We have— “ he looked at his wrist time piece “about five hours before the club even opens so…”

Heero was surprised when Duo turned on him. He crashed into him, his arms coming up around the other boy instinctively to catch him from falling. Duo gave a startled shout, gripping onto Heero as he felt his balance tumble. They stared at each other, wide-eyed and panting. And then Heero pulled away.

“Sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Duo grinned, pulling into rank beside Heero as they continued walking. “I was wondering if maybe you wanted to grab a bite to eat or something?”

Duo. Plus Food. “Sounds acceptable.”

Duo beamed at him. “Good! There’s this really great place…”

Thirty-five minutes later, the two were seated at Geronimo’s—a gourmet grill, as the sign outside read. It wasn’t fancy but it was a nice, quaint little place with candle-lit lights hanging over each table. A dark-haired girl about their age had greeted them at the door. “In all the joints, in all the colonies, you had to walk into mine,” she said, looking Duo over.

The braided boy just flashed her a smile and held out his arms. “Where else I’m a supposed to go to find a decent meal?” he laughed.

Heero was surprised again when the girl laughed with him, giving his partner a hug and wagging her head. “I don’t think there’s any place in the colonies that could fill *your* appetite, Duo. C’mon. I’ll get you guys a seat and then tell Daddy you’re here.”

“Thanks, Tina!” Duo looked back at Heero to make sure the other boy was following them before taking off after the dark-haired girl.

They were studying the menus when a short, large, balding man in an apron approached their table. He turned out to be ‘Eddie’, the girl’s father and another big fan of Duo’s. Heero was becoming used to many of the people they met randomly on the streets or in shops they stopped in knowing who they were— or, at least, who Duo was, and congratulating him for ending the war. Those who didn’t know Heero already were friendly enough to him, saying that a friend of Duo’s was a friend to them. Heero didn’t discourage them, but he didn’t encourage them, either.

It was strange, he was discovering. In just the last week alone, he had learned more about the braided boy he knew as a copilot than he had learned on all their missions combined. He was intrigued, to say the least. There was… just… *something* about the braided boy, and he was beginning to see he wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

Dinner was excellent. One of the best meals Heero could ever remember having— and he wasn’t sure if it was the food or the company he was with. The owner, Eddie, had stayed and talked with them for a while, telling them the meal was complimentary for a job well done and that they shouldn’t be “strangers to the neighborhood.” Duo and he had walked around the area then, before entering an apartment building. Duo introduced him to Ken before the two boys buried themselves in the depths of Ken’s enormous closet, trying on different outfits and accessories. Heero allowed himself to take a nap in the meantime—something told him he was going to need his energy for later.

He was right.

Heero watched Duo dance with someone—male or female, he couldn’t tell from this distance. He was very good though. He took another sip from the liquor sweetened soda, eyes glued to the dance floor, or, rather, a person on the dance floor.

He looked… Heero didn’t know how to describe what Duo looked like. He just watched with amazement as that lithe body twisted and turned and dipped and slithered to the pulsating tempo of the music, completely unconscious of just how damn sexy he looked. Ken and Duo had found a “perfect” outfit for the long- haired boy: tight fitting black pants that clung to his calves and thighs, molded to his curved backside and—

Duo turned and winked at Heero. Heero swallowed, pulling his eyes away from certain places on the other boy’s body. Duo had on a loose two button black- see-through, ruffled jacket that was laced with silver, gold, and red thread, colors that twinkled in the whirling melee of overhead lights. He’d pulled his loose hair back into a ponytail that whipped around his body in its own dance. Ken had completed the ensemble with ankle-high, black studded heeled boots and silver bangles for Duo’s wrists. The silver cross hanging from the black threaded string was the only thing around his neck.

He looked good. He looked damned good. And Heero was hard pressed not to go out there and dance with him just so *he* could be the one the long-haired boy’s body pressed against as the music pumped on.

“A gorgeous guy like you should be out on the dance floor,” a woman in a skimpy, tight, lime-colored skirt pressed against his shoulder as she leaned over him. “C’mon, baby. Let me take you for a spin.”

“No thank you,” he replied, shifting away from her.

“Auh, c’mon. I know you want to,” she said, following him, crushing her small breasts against his back, her arms moving to entrap his chest.

“He said ‘no’. Now I suggest you go find someone *else* to… *dance* with.”

Both looked up—the girl wearing a pouty frown until she saw the looker who interrupted her play. “Well, maybe *you’d* like ta dance with me,” she offered, swinging around the chair and sashaying over to the newcomer. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed against him, letting her lips hover near his.

“No thanks,” Duo replied, trying not to cringe away from the rank breath slapping him in the face. He pulled her arms off and stepped away. “I already have a date for the night.” He reached out and grabbed hold of Heero’s hand and pulled the other boy out onto the dance floor before the girl could try something else.

“Well, damn!” She flopped into the now-empty chair, watching the two boys move out into the sea of thrashing bodies, picking up Heero’s abandoned glass. “Why is it *always* the *cute* ones?”

Heero tried to stop him, but they were already diving in between moving bodies. "No, Duo, I can't dance," he gasped, eyeing the bodies around him with a hint of wariness.

The long-haired boy was already turning around to face him and pressed up against his body. Duo smiled and leaned in closer to whisper in his ear, "It's easy. Here, let me show you…"

Close, heavy breathing. Their bodies moving against one another’s, shifting over tight fabric. Hot—it was hot out on the dance floor and a sheet of sweat broke out over their bodies, shiny in the strobe lights. Hands, questing hands moving over bodies in not-so-innocent touches. Oh gods! It was so hot!

"Duo…" Heero swallowed the groan, but it was too late. The other boy heard.

"Loosen up, Heero. Relax…" Lips brushed lips, ghosting, smiling. Heero chased, wanting to taste those lips like he had in so many dreams before. "Not now… not here…"

They were bumping 'n grinding to the heavy pulse of the music, loving every torturous second but both wanting more. "You ready to go?" Duo called out over the blaring music, breathless and expectant, studying the Japanese boy’s face for any hint of resistance.

"Yeah." Duo stole Heero's hand and pulled them away from the dance floor. They paid their tab and ducked out of there, strolling down the empty streets in silence until they got back to the house. In the kitchen, Duo poured them both large glasses of water.

"Here, drink up. It'll help ya come morning," he said with a smirk. He hopped up onto the countertop with a satisfied exclamation. "Ah! That was fun. We should do it again sometime."

"Hn."

"Is that a 'hn-yes' or a 'hn-no'?"

Heero smiled/smirked. "Yes," he answered. Duo beamed.

"Good. It's a date then!"

Heero and Duo stared at each other.

"A date," Heero agreed and they lapsed into a small silence.

"Yeah…" Duo agreed breathlessly. "A date."

Heero moved, inching closer to the American. "Do you want something, Heero?" Duo breathed. Heero nodded. "Something I can help you with?" Duo leaned forward, his hands biting into counter top behind him. Lips inches apart, Heero nodded.

"Duo, I—"

Duo kissed him. Both men moaned and, as if released from some invisible bond they sprang free, Duo sliding down off the counter, Heero stepping up closer to it. Arms wrapped around each other, bodies pressed together, squeezing away the last hint of air between them. Duo pulled back, just slightly, licking his lips. "You taste good."

"Mmmnnn…"

"Heero, I want…"

"Yes, Duo?"

"To go to bed."

Heero, preparing to kiss the braided boy again, stopped and pulled away. Duo smiled. "I want you to come with me."

"Duo, I—"

Duo covered his lips with a single finger. "You don't have to. I wouldn't want you to do anything you don’t want to."

"I want to." Heero pressed closer, flush, and Duo noticed what he’d been too excited to notice before. He could *feel* the other’s want.

"Good." Duo started walking, pushing Heero backwards through the kitchen and living room, pausing in the hallway. "Your room okay? Or mine?"

"I don't care."

"Hn. No steps, yours." He pushed Heero into the bedroom, closing the door behind him, and back against the bed. Heero fell; Duo pulled him up into a sitting position, tearing the green tank top off and tossing it somewhere behind him while Heero’s fingers quickly undid the two buttons to Duo’s blouse. They touch, kiss, and explore each other's bodies, rolling over the bed and moaning with pleasurable delight,

Somewhere in the tossing and turning and rolling, their hands met and clasped— if it weren’t for all the kissing, it would have look like two teenagers wrestling on a bed. Duo gasped, pulling his lips away from Heero’s and throwing his head back to pull air into his starving lungs. “God, Heero,” he panted, rubbing against Heero’s body. “I want you… please.” He pulled Heero’s hand down to his apex of his thighs, moaning and arching into the touch. Heero’s hand closed around the bulging heat reflexively, wreaking another moan from the boy beneath him

“So I see,” he replied, tasting Duo’s throat and then chest.

“Heero…” Duo whined, moving into Heero’s ministrations to his body. Heero’s hand slipped free from Duo’s, leaving him touching himself. Duo’s bereft cry turned to one of encouragement when the fastenings on his pants gave way to Heero’s hands. “Yesss…” he hissed at the room’s cool air washed over his exposed skin. “Off,” he demanded. “All the way off,” he gasped, kicking his legs to rid himself of the clingy pants.

Heero obeyed, moving off Duo and the bed to pull the pants off completely, and then kissing his way back up the lithe boy’s legs. “Heero…!” Duo groaned when the other reached his thighs—nipping and licking and teasing him as he inched his way to the root of Duo’s raging erection.

Duo gasped, moaned, and then whimpered as Heero’s lips began nibbling at his base, licking up the underside of his penis all the way to the tip where they licked clean the pearlish bead of precum.

“HEERO!”

He tried to control his muscles, keeping them rigid to prevent from strangling Heero when his head dipped to engulf his penis—but it was hard. Very hard. All he wanted to do was bury himself all the way into that warm mouth. He fisted the striped bed sheets, his head thrashing from side to side and he choked on his screams for more.

Heero’s lips and tongue and teeth teased the long-haired boy’s engorged flesh, never tarrying long in one spot, and then his mouth swallowed him, and Duo cried out his name. He hummed with the pleasure his name on Duo’s lips gave him, unknowingly returning that pleasure, magnified. His head began bobbing, tasting the crowning purple head before plunging down where tawny curls teased his lips and nose. All around him; Duo was all around him, surrounding him, engulfing him, all his senses—Duo’s tangy cum sweetened his mouth, his musky scent made him heady, his warm, sweaty flesh moved under him, his cries chorused around him.

“Oh, God! Heero! Yes! Oh! Oh! Heero! God! Shit! Yes! Don’t STOP! Heero! Mmmmmm, Heero! Please, Heero! Shit, please! Please, please, please! Heero!!!”

Heero released Duo’s glistening arousal, gasping for breath as one hand replaced his mouth, the other holding the American’s hips to the bed. “Come for me, Duo,” he breathed, bending over to take the length back into his mouth. It didn’t take much more to coax the long-haired youth into relinquishing his milky seed. Heero took it, trying to swallow up all the warm salty essence of the boy he loved and lapping up any moisture that had escaped.

Duo hummed, low in the back of his throat, the resulting sound like that of a contented cat, purring under the fingertips of its master. His fingers released their death-grip on the sheets to play in Heero’s wild, sweat dampened hair, smoothing the russet curls and then ruffling them back up again. “Heero…” he sighed, a pleased little smile radiating from his face.

Heero looked up from where he had become distracted, attending to the drained youth’s genitals with lavish consideration. He climbed back up the bed, watching Duo intently, trying to gauge how the other felt about what just happened. Other than obviously being pleased, he didn’t know. Duo leaned up from the bed when Heero came into reach and pulled him down to him, kissing Heero’s temple, cheek, nose, chin, lips before ravishing his mouth.

Heero gave into the devouring kiss, giving as good as the other gave. He fell back into the bed, Duo rolling up over him, pushing him into the sheets. “My turn,” Duo teased, straddling the more-than-willing Japanese youth. Duo kissed his way down Heero’s chest, stopping to pay homage to each dark nipple before following a small happy trail to happy land. His fingers fumbled with the jeans.

“Have I mentioned just how damn *good* you look in these?” he asked, dropping a kiss on Heero’s exposed hip before tugging them farther down.

“Duo…” he growled, his hands fisting clumps of long chestnut hair, amazed at its silky texture.

“And… *OFF* we go!” he exclaimed, pulling the jeans free from Heero’s legs. He sat back and just stared. “Damn, Heero…” He shook his head, at a loss for words.

Heero felt a moment’s tenseness of self-consciousness before Duo jumped him, kissing away any doubts he might have had about the other boy wanting him. Their naked bodies rubbed against each other, coaxing new and old fires alike. Their hips crashed together, rocking the bed with every thrust. Duo’s kiss never ended, and both would have suffocated if not for the genius of noses. Long chestnut strands of silk fell around them, enclosing them in their own private little world of pure, white-hot pleasure that caught them up and rocketed them past climax into a shivering aftershock glow of bliss.

“We made a mess,” Duo murmured, smoothing his hand over Heero’s cum-slick stomach, mixing their cum together in tiny patterns. He lifted his hand to his lips and tasted the pearly mixture. "Mmm. You taste good, Hee-chan."

Heero seized Duo’s hand and brought it to his lips to taste. "Hn. You taste better."

Duo smiled and snuggled closer to him, not caring for the moment if he was hot and sweaty and in bad need of a shower. All he cared about was that Heero Yuy was in his arms, willingly, and that *this* wasn’t a dream.

 

 

“Do you always go around without any underwear on?” Duo asked conversationally over breakfast the next morning. Hilde was out again with another girlfriend of hers and wouldn’t be back until later that day—which left both boys to fend for themselves.

Heero studied the pancake batter in front of him, wondering when would be a good time to attempt to flip the darn thing. “It’s easier.” He shot a look over his shoulder. “And you? What’s you’re excuse?”

Duo gave him a cheeky grin. “Hemline. Those pants *were* rather tight, you know. Just wouldn’t do to have a seam showing.”

“Hn.” Heero turned back to the stove with a shake of his head.

Duo was up and behind him in a flash, worming his arms around his bare torso and pressing against his back. His lips brushed Heero’s neck, right behind his ear. “I really enjoyed last night,” he breathed, his eyes closing as his head fell to Heero’s shoulder.

“I did, too.” He was hesitant, but sincere, and Duo’s lips curved against his throat in a smile. “I’m glad,” the braided youth replied, giving him a tight squeeze before pulling away.

“So how are those pancakes coming along? I’m hungry, ya know!”

“Hn” was as much of a reply as Heero was going to get because at that moment, the kitchen door burst open and an excited Hilde ran in. Both boys were reaching for guns that weren’t there before the identity of the ‘intruder’ even registered.

“Dammit, Hilde! What cha trying to do, huh? Get yerself *killed*?” Duo asked, swiping his bangs back out of his face.

“Duo! Guess what!” she cried, not bother to answer but running up to him and gripping his arms. “I was just talking to Sal and he says he wants to sell the garage. To *us*, Duo! He wants to sell the garage to *US*!!!”

“Salvage work, huh?” Duo grinned shooting a look over to Heero before looking back down at the excited girl. “I guess I can handle that. I’d been meaning to look into getting a job anyway now that I don’t have to worry about a war or nothing. Being my own boss wouldn’t be too bad, either…”

He nodded, some of the dark-haired girls excitement brushing off on him. “I think I’d like that. So, you told him ‘yes’?” He nodded again. “Yeah, I think that would be pretty cool. Cool, I’m game.” He looked back over to Heero, meeting the Japanese pilot’s cobalt gaze. “I’m game…”

 

 

 

 

**In the Pale Moonlight by Andrea Readwolf**

**Part 2, Act Two**

 

"I think perhaps I should leave you now," the bear-sized man said calmly, closing the folder in front of him with a decided *flap* and standing.

"No, please, Rashid!" Quatre cried, turning to face his guard and friend, fighting the layers of bed sheets twisting around him, catching him up and effectively keeping him *in* the large bed. "Stay with me?"

Rashid frowned down at the recovering boy. The blond was small enough to look like he was drowning in a sea of coverlets and pillows.

"At least until Trowa gets back," Quatre pleaded. "I promised Dr. Bombay I wouldn't get out of bed, but it's just so damn *boring* being stuck here like this! I feel like I'm 7 years old again and being punished!"

"You are not a child, Master Quatre," the large man replied, barely managing to hide an amused smile. "Nor are you being punished."

"No," the blond sighed, literally drowning in his pillows when he leaned back into them. "Of course not, but-"

"But you must allow your body to heal," Rashid cut off, resuming his seat next to the bed.

"I *understand* that, Rashid," Quatre sighed, "but I just wish it didn't have to be so boring!" Color suddenly infused the blond's pale cheeks. "I'm sorry, Rashid! Here I am complaining about it being boring while forcing you to stay." Quatre looked at his hands, fisting around the coverlet in his lap. "You must have work requiring your attention. Please, I understand if you must go-"

"I am fine, Master Quatre," the older man replied, smiling fondly at the boy whose head snapped up, hope beaming up at him from that angelic face.

He liked to pretend-to believe that the fair-haired youth was his son, as unlikely as that could be. It made him more protective of his charge, he knew, but the boy was dear to them all and he knew he wasn't the only one of his people who felt an overwhelming amount of love and affection for the young Winner heir. It was the boy's soul, the man reasoned, which was incredibly more pure than any other he had met. The boy was a true Raberba. He had known that within a day of meeting him.

It was more than just the coloring, the looks-the boy looked all too much the image of a family thought lost; it was true. It was his mannerisms, the way he treated other people.

Rashid had held doubts at first. The boy's spoiled and rotten attitude when they first met had made him doubt what his eyes insisted was truth. But that was the product of his home, Rashid understood. The way the boy had been treated and raised by his father. Even the product of nurture could not overwrite what nature had deemed true; the spirit of the Raberbas sung in the boy's soul and reached out to gently embrace all those who were willing to receive the boy's love.

He had sworn his life to the boy when he saw that truth; when the boy fought to protect a small band of rebels from a country he'd never heard of before. Then Rashid had known the truth and accepted it. The spirit of the Raberbas had survived. The proof stood before him. 'Allah bless the Raberbas…'

"Perhaps you should consider trying to contact your sisters, Master Quatre," he suggested now to the bed-ridden boy. "You have many?"

"Tons!" Quatre exclaimed with wide rolling eyes; and then he frowned, a sigh falling from his down-turned lips. "I've never met many of them… No one even showed up for Father's funeral…" He fell into a sad remembrance of five months earlier, standing by himself as an empty grave marker was scripted into the Winner Family Bible. Not even his sister Iria had stood with him-she was still recovering from a set of broken ribs. An injury she had received because of him…

"Yes, I should try to talk with them," Quatre said, drawing back into the present and looking over to his friend. "That is a wonderful suggestion, Rashid, thank you."

Rashid smiled at the boy again, giving a nod of acceptance. "If you would like, I can ask one of the men to run a check for all Winners in the colonies and on Earth?"

"That would be wonderful, Rashid," Quatre replied, thanking the older man again.

The door opened with a quiet click, catching both their attentions. "Quatre? I'm sorry I took so long," Trowa's soft voice carried into the room. "Hello, Rashid," the tall youth nodded, stopping a ways from the bed upon seeing the large, dark man guarding over it and his charge.

"Master Trowa," the Manganac soldier replied, standing up.

Trowa opened his mouth to correct the man-he was *not* a 'master'-but sighed and closed it again. There was no use wasting words on the man. But he was *sure* the other man was actually *smirking* at him though.

"I will leave you now, Master Quatre," Rashid said, turning to the bed. "Karif will most likely have a list ready for your review tomorrow."

"That would be great, Rashid, thank you," Quatre answered, smiling up at the man. Rashid was reminded of a golden puppy for not the first time as he nodded. He was safely out of the room before he let a chuckle rumble free from his chest.

"So did you have fun today?" Quatre asked as the door closed behind Rashid. He smiled up sideways at the boy, smoothing the coverlet over his lap.

"Yes," Trowa answered, sitting down in the chair the other man had vacated. "It was nice to get out and see some of this colony. I've never been to L4 before." The blond's beaming happiness threatened to blind him.

"Oh, good!" Quatre cried, pleased beyond reason that his lover had enjoyed his day. "I'm glad," he continued, his smile turning shy and embarrassed. "I guess being born and raised here takes away some of the glamour for me, but, when I'm allowed out of here, maybe we can go sightseeing together, ne?"

Trowa didn't miss the hopeful note that laced the other boy's voice. Nor could he deny its request. "Hai," he replied, letting his fingers lace together with Quatre's. "Whatever you would like."

Quatre brightened the room. He squeezed Trowa's hand before bringing it up to his lips and kissing it-not unaware of how the gesture forced Trowa to lean farther over the bed. His blue eyes darkened with a mischievous glint even as his lips twitched. "Whatever I would like…?"

His throat and mouth dried out as Quatre pulled him up onto the bed and over him. "Hai…" Trowa breathed, lips hovering over Quatre's.

Quatre blinked. "You know Japanese?"

Trowa blinked, recovering himself and leaning back into the chair. "I know enough," the soft-spoken boy answered, tucking his chin into his chest, allowing his thick bangs to hide the flushed color of his face, "of many languages." One green eye looked up, catching Quatre's. "Japanese *is* one of the main universal languages."

"Yes…" Quatre smiled up at him, studying the face that hid behind the curtain of soft golden brown hair. He pushed the bang away to the side, cupping Trowa's cheek in the process. "You are a remarkable person, Trowa Barton."

Green eyes darkened and looked away. Trowa's voice was low and hoarse when he replied, "It was part of my training."

The blond frowned, confused by the conflicting emotions he felt pulsating in the air around them, but he dismissed his misgivings in favor of other thoughts. "Trowa? May I ask you something?"

He squeezed Quatre's hand and smiled down at him. "You just did."

Quatre shot him a "ha-ha-not-funny" look and asked, "How long did you train?" He noticed a shuttered look flit across his lover's face and quickly added, "As a gundam pilot?" He knew there was something in his love's past-something Trowa wasn't ready to talk to him about, and for now, he was fine with that. He didn't want to push even if he *was* insanely curious about everything of the young man he knew and loved.

Trowa hesitated. The fact was, he became Heavyarms's pilot at the last minute-literally. It was his training as a mercenary and his years inside a mobile suit cockpit he had been referring to. His only preparation for becoming the gundam's pilot was his year and a half of service, helping to construct the advanced mobile suit. But he couldn't just tell the blond boy that, until he'd been sent to Earth in Gundam 03, he'd never sat in its pilot's chair…

"Not very long," he answered, knowing the boy was waiting for an answer. "Would you like to play a game, Quatre?" He pushed away from the bed and walked over to a stationary desk set up in the corner of the room.

"You're a very good pilot for not having much experience, Trowa," Quatre said, throwing off one of the many blankets piled on the bed. "Yes, a game would be nice. What would you like to play?"

Trowa smiled and looked over at him. "That's supposed to be my line." The blond boy just smiled back at him. "How about some cards?" Quatre nodded and he reached into one of the desk drawers, pulling out an old bicycle deck of playing cards. "I had previous experience," Trowa admitted, returning to the bed with the cards. He silently hoped the blond wouldn't question him anymore, but he knew better.

"'Previous experience'?" Quatre asked, holding his hand out for the deck.

Trowa sighed without making a sound, handing over the deck obediently. Quatre continued to look at him like an eager little boy awaiting a bedtime story. Swaddled in all those bed coverings he really *did* look it, too. This was one story Trowa wasn't ready to share, though. Something inside of him screamed to prolong his stay here longer if at all possible-and he knew if he told his innocent and caring blond prince the story of his past then that stay would be cut short. His blond prince would only hate and despise him sooner…

"Five hundred?" he asked, taking the cards back from Quatre and shuffling them with expertise.

"Sure," the blond answered, warring with himself. Should he push a bit… or just let it drop…? Curiosity won out. Okay, so a different approach maybe… "What did you do before you were a gundam pilot, Trowa?"

"I was a mechanic," Trowa began dealing out seven cards each, sparing a look to the blond. "I've told you this before, Quatre."

The blond boy smiled, unapologetic. "Can I help it if you intrigue me, Trowa Barton? I want to know everything about you."

The lithe boy's normally impassive face frowned as he set the unused portion of the deck between them. "No, you don't," he answered.

Quatre's hand snatched out and caught Trowa's wrist, forcing startled green eyes to look up at him. "Yes. I do."

He tried to swallow the knot in his throat-to swallow down the lump of pain and hurt and fear. 'Never get too involved, Nanashi,' one of the mercs had told him when they were still alive. 'Never let your heart get involved. It's safer that way.' Trowa closed his eyes, willing away the image of bright and intent blue eyes fringed by blond, spiky bangs; willing away the echo of a voice that had been silenced more than five years ago.

"Quatre…" It was a question, a statement, a plea… For what? Neither boy knew.

"Trowa…" the blond boy responded, pulling gently on his arm, pulling Trowa over onto the bed until he could look up at him, eyes shining into the hooded green eyes. He leaned up, touching their lips.

"Quatre…" he warned. The blond's fingers wiggled into his palm and slid between his fingers, locking their hand together. Beneath him, Trowa could feel Quatre shifting on the bed, settling into a more accessible position.

"I want you, Trowa," the blond boy breathed against his cheek. "I want to love you…"

Trowa swallowed the groan those words produced, trying to ignore the way his body reacted, eager to cooperate with the blond's wishes. "You're still hurt," he reminded him.

Lips teased lips again. "I'm a lot better," Quatre reminded him, shifting his hips up to brush against Trowa's.

"You need to heal…" His eyes shuttered tight, his head fell to the blond's shoulder and he returned the teasing caress of hips rubbing against hips, crushing his growing arousal against Quatre's.

"I need you," Quatre moaned, his voice little more than a whispered breath. "Please…"

"Quatre, your body-"

"Wants you!" the blond gasped, rocking his hips into Trowa's with renewed fever. "Let me love you, Trowa," he panted. "Or, or, love me." He swallowed, waiting to gage the other boy's reaction.

Trowa looked down at the boy beneath him, studying his face closely. 'Love him'? Did he mean it? Really? He wanted *him* to… They'd never…

"It's been four days," Quatre hedged, licking his lips. "The stitches will hold. We can be careful. Please, Trowa… love me?"

"What about the cards?" he asked, knowing it for a lame excuse. Quatre growled and shoved the remaining cards onto the floor to join the others. Trowa almost laughed. Almost. He buried his face in the blond's neck, licking and tasting the salty sweet skin there, Quatre's warm, buttery biscuit scent wafting up to engulf him.

There was a rustle of sheets as Trowa moved them out of his way, sliding in beside the smaller boy, entangling himself in arms, legs, and uncooperating sheets. Hands fisted in his hair, forcing his face up. Lips pressing against lips, a hungry mouth opening to him, for him. A silky tongue coaxing him to play. Trowa needed no coaxing.

He dropped kisses over the blond's face, returning consistently to those swollen lips to taste from Quatre's mouth repetitively. His fingers flew down Quatre's silky blue pajamas, buttons magically undone in their wake. Trowa's lips were soon to follow, placing kisses liberally over the squirming blond's chest-trailing his way farther south with each wiggle.

Quatre was keening, begging, urging Trowa to 'just do it'. When hands started tugging at his waistband, he eagerly helped remove the offending clothing, kicking the silk pants away and wrapping his legs around Trowa's chest. His bottoms didn't even hit the floor before Quatre was crying out, arching off the bed, his hands fisting in Trowa's hair.

Trowa wasted no time in taking Quatre's swollen penis into his mouth. He swallowed it in one plunge, pressing until silky blond curls teased his lips, and then pulled completely back, licking up the underside of the sensitive organ from base to crown. His tongue swirled around the ridge of the head before he swallowed it down again. He repeated the process, again and again and again-every once in a dip, swiping out to lick the tight little sac.

It was during one such swipe that Quatre came with a startled, choked scream. Sticky whitish cum spurted onto Trowa's cheek and face and the youth sat back, scooping it up and off, looking from it to the panting blond, smiling. Green eyes never leaving clouded blue, Trowa licked his hand clean.

"You taste better than any other," he said in his quiet voice when his hand was clean.

Quatre shot him a teasing smile. "Oh? And you've had many," he quipped, jesting, feeling very much ready for more play. Trowa didn't share in his teasing mood though and Quatre felt the same misgivings from before resurface. "Trowa?" He reached out to touch him, but Trowa shifted away from him.

"You should rest, Quatre," Trowa said, not looking at him, but at the floor beside their-his bed, where the blue silk pajama pants landed in a puddle. He stood and reached over for one of the flat sheets, pulling it up over Quatre's nude form. "Dr. Bombay will be in here shortly to check on you."

"Trowa! Wait!" Quatre watched, shocked and confused as Trowa just turned and left. He flopped back into the hot and sweaty sheets, looking completely lost.

"What won't you tell me, Trowa…?" he asked the empty room.

 

 

"Yes, hello, I'm trying to reach Farrah Winner, please."

The young blond man was sitting at the desk set up in the master suite; a large list of names, numbers, addresses, etc sat before him. This was his twelfth call in thirty minutes-so far, all were unsuccessful. His sisters were either at work, out, out, unavailable, visiting relatives, away for the moment, at work, out, unavailable, 'too busy to come to the phone right now but leave a message and I'll connect with you at the earliest possible convenience', or at work. In that order. Quatre was beginning to feel just a tad bit discouraged-not that twelve out of twenty-nine is all that bad of odds… yet.

"I'm sorry, *Ms.* Winner is unavailable at the moment."

"Wait! Wait!" Quatre flipped the view screen to life before the person on the other end could disconnect him. This time he caught her attention before the connection died. "Can you please tell me when she will be available?"

The dark-brown woman on the other end frowned at him. "Are you one of Farrah's nephew's? If so, boy, you'd had better sense then to be calling from this number. You *know* no one's going to be accepting no phone calls from there."

"Why not?" Quatre asked, puzzled. Why would his sisters be blocking messages from their home?

The woman's chocolatey brown eyes narrowed and she frowned at him suspiciously. "You're not one of Farrah's nephews, are you? Who are you then? Where'd you get this number? Why're you callin' here?"

"Latil? Who is it?" another woman's voice called-and then Quatre sucked in his breath. A young woman-in her early twenties, perhaps-entered the viewing area and looked right at him, with a face very similar to his own. She was smiling, her warm, blue eyes open and friendly as she looked at him. And then something flickered in those blue eyes, the smile wavering. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" she asked, a forced cheerfulness lacing her words.

Quatre's chin fell to his chest and he smiled. "No, you don't, but I would like the opportunity to change that," he said before looking back up directly at her. "My name is Quatre Raberba Winner. I am trying to locate my sister. Perhaps you could help me?" He didn't miss either woman's short gasp and shock as he introduced himself.

"Quatre…?" The blonde's fingertips grazed the screen along side his cheek and she gave a little half-laugh, her lips twitching. "Allah above, you were just a little boy the last time-" She stopped, giving another laugh and shaking her head. "Forgive me. I'm your youngest sister, Farrah. Where *are* you? How did you know to find me here? Have you reached anyone else?"

Quatre laughed. "Hello, Farrah! It's great to finally see you!"

 

 

Reaching his youngest sister, Farrah, was his foot in the door to the rest of the Winner sisters. Before nightfall, calls were coming in from across the Earth Sphere on all five separate com-lines feeding into the Winner Home Residence on L4. Quatre was as anxious to talk to all of them as they were to hear and talk to him.

And in the background of it all, Trowa watched, silent, observant, swallowing the lump in his throat and blinking away the stinging from his eyes.

 

 

"Well, young man," the middle-aged brown-haired man said, closing up his bag-of-gifts, "I now pronounce you well. But *please*!" he added before the blond young man could escape. "*Try* not to over exert yourself?"

Quatre smiled up at the kind doctor. "Thank you, Dr. Bombay. I will try to remember."

And with the next breath he was jumping out of bed with an excited whoop. Dr. Bombay shook his head and just smiled. "Incredible. In the fifteen years I've tended to him, he hasn't changed a bit."

"I hope he never changes," Trowa's soft voice replied. The doctor looked back and nodded.

"He shines with a radiance," he answered and nodded. "I hope he never loses it either. Well, I must be off! I promised my youngest girl I'd escort her to the theater tonight." Bombay winked at Trowa and then left.

"Ooh! There's an idea, Trowa!" Quatre cried, coming out of the closet in time to hear Bombay's last words. "How would you like to go to the theater tonight?"

"Whatever makes you happy," the tall youth replied.

Quatre calmed down, sashaying closer to him and wrapping his arms around Trowa's neck. "*You* make me happy," he murmured, brushing his lips over Trowa's, his tongue flicking out to tease those lips. Trowa opened to him and Quatre pressed his point, claiming his mouth.

"I'm told I can find *the* Winner Heir in her-opps! Oh, um, 'cuse me! I didn't realize-Quatre?!"

The two boys pulled apart and turned away-Trowa moving to inspect the design on the curtains, Quatre turning a smile for the interrupting newcomer. The smile infused itself for real when the identity of the shocked woman standing in his doorway was known.

"Farrah!" he cried, moving to embrace the stunned woman. "I didn't expect you till next week at the earliest!"

"Yeah, well," she blinked, looking from Quatre to Trowa and back again. "I think I can see that." She shook her head as if to clear it. "I had some free time coming, so I decided to get a head start on the others-though, I'm sure they'll be getting in by tonight, too."

She looked back at Trowa, questions evident in her dark blue eyes. "Are you… going to introduce me to your… *friend*, Quatre?" she asked after a moment.

The blond boy blushed and cleared his throat. "Forgive me. Farrah, this is Trowa Barton. Trowa, this is my youngest sister, Farrah."

The cinnamon haired youth turned away from the curtains, face hidden by his long bang. "Hello," he answered, his voice soft and almost as nonexistent as ever.

Farrah allowed the smirk to overtake her lips-she knew it. She *knew* she was smirking. And in her head, a voice sang out to her sisters: I know something you don't know! I know something you don't know!

"A pleasure," she replied, holding her hand out to him. He accepted it and she could feel the roughened patches of calluses over his fingers and palm. 'A pilot,' she concluded, her smiling brightening. "Well, this turned into more of a surprise for myself than for you," she laughed, turning back to Quatre. "I'm sorry for interrupting!"

"It's quite alright," her brother replied, motioning her from the room.

"You know, I haven't been in the place in nearly fifteen years…?" she was saying, preceding him out of the room.

Quatre threw a look to Trowa. It promised the tall young man a continuation, "Later," he mouthed.

Trowa sighed in the empty room, falling back against the wall. What was he doing? Why didn't he just pack his bags and *leave* already-like he'd promised himself he'd do…?

 

 

Farrah Winner knew her sisters well. Four more places were set at the dining table before dinner was through and before they were ready to retire for the evening, seven more bedrooms were aired out and fitted with fresh linen. "You better air out the rest, too," Quatre whispered to the housekeeper who winked back at him. "Already on it, young man. Angie knows how to do her job, don't you be forgetting that!" The plump older woman laughed and left him with his guests.

"Quatre, tell me, honestly," his eldest sister, Isabell began the minute he reentered the parlor. "Did you *really* fly one of those gundams?"

"I *told* you already," Amber, 28, cut in before he could reply. "He flew that ZERO-thing. That's what Iria said. Don't you ever listen?"

"Well actually-"

"I thought she said he only commissioned that one to be built," Alanis, 34, said, tugging at her 4-year-old daughter. "Chasidy, come *here*!"

"No, no, no," Sadira, 28, answered. "I mean, *yes*, he *did*, but he also *flew* it. Isn't that right, Quatre?"

"Well, really I-"

"Wait a minute," Farrah interjected, frowning. "I thought you flew that *other* suit. You know, the white one?"

"They're *all* white, silly!" Elmira, 27, tossed a throw pillow at her sister's head.

"Well, there's one that's black, isn't there?" Yesenia, 21, defended, helping Farrah block the pillow-mainly because she was sitting next to her and didn't feel like eating a mouth-full of pillow, either.

"There were seven identified gundanium alloyed mobile suits documented," Sabriel announced, adjusting her thick, black-framed glasses on her nose. Next to her, her twin, Sabiya was doing the same.

"Gundam Wing, Gundam Deathscythe, Gundam Heavyarms, Gundam Sandrock, Gundam Shenlong, Gundam Epyon, and Gundam Wing ZERO," Sabiya identified.

Both sisters turned to Quatre-in fact, all twelve present sisters turned to the youngest blond member. "Which was yours?"

Quatre blinked, finding himself suddenly the focus of thirteen sets of various shades of blue eyes. He cleared his throat and unconsciously shifted closer to the only other male in the room, sitting next to him. "I piloted Sandrock-"

"There! See! I *told* you it was the white one!" Farrah shouted with a hoot.

"AND," Quatre practically had to shout so they could hear him. "I did build Wing ZERO-" Sadira and Amber wore smug faces. "But all the gundam pilots piloted it, including Zechs Merquise." Glances shot among the girls, worried, frowning looks. "In the end, it was Heero Yuy who kept the gundam."

"So, you all kept your own gundams?" Julia asked, smoothing her pants so she wouldn't keep looking at Trowa, wondering who he was.

Quatre nodded and smiled at them.

"Is that wise?" Isabell was frowning. "I mean, what if something happened to one of those suits. They *are* made from gundanium-they could do a lot of damage in the wrong hands…"

"I trust the other pilots to protect their suits," Quatre said, his voice ringing strong with his honesty.

"Are you sure that's-"

"Well, I think that's a better idea that keeping all than power in *one* place, don't you agree?" Felicia, 39, cut Shakila, 31, off.

"Oh, most definitely!" Sadira answered.

"Well, *I* think they should all be destroyed," Elmira huffed.

"Gundam Epyon and Wing were already destroyed and severely damaged," Sabiya replied.

"Which leaves-" "the remain five suits-" "in the original gundam pilot's" "hands." Sabriel and Sabiya pointed out.

"Well, better *them* than that Milliardo-person!" Alanis cried, shifting her daughter on her lap. "I mean, where does he get off blowing a chuck out of the Earth, huh?"

"He was acting under false pretenses," Yesenia defended the absent man.

"False pretenses my big toe!" Felicia huffed. "He was heading off the figging White Fang!"

"He let anger and hurt cloud his judgment," Quatre whispered-and, surprisingly, all noise in the room died, making his voice sound large and booming. He looked up at his sisters-all varying shades of blue and gold. Trowa, he realized, was the only one who looked out of place-dark where everyone else was light.

He had enjoyed this time, studying his sisters as they bantered back and forth with one another. They all seemed really nice-and they were-and Quatre was happy for it. One part of him wondered what they would say when he told them handsome young man sitting next to him was more than just his 'friend'… He realized that, while a part of him worried about their opinion, a larger part of him knew it didn't really matter. His smile brightened.

"I'm sorry, it's been a long and exciting day," he said, standing up. Beside him, Trowa was following his cue and standing as well. He noticed all his sisters' eyes darting quickly over Trowa before looking back at him, questions galore. While Trowa had been introduced to them all as his 'friend from during the war', many of them wondered just how 'friendly' they were. "If you'll excuse us…"

The girls-women, were all standing around him now, offering hugs and kisses and well-wishes for a good night's passage. Quatre basked in the attention, and only pulled away when he realized Trowa wasn't next to him anymore. He looked over his sisters' shoulders until he saw the young man leaning against the doorframe, away from the commotion. He felt his heart swell and throb with the love he felt for Trowa and Quatre pulled himself away from his sisters, eager to be with the other boy.

He knew his sisters were going to talk about him, about them, as soon as they left, but he found he didn't care. "Up to playing a little before bed?" Quatre asked as they approached the main stairway.

Trowa shot him an amused look from under his bang. "I thought you were tired…?"

The blond boy smiled and bumped into him, playfully. "I saw the last time you yawned," he admitted. "It must have been pretty boring for you, sitting there while my sisters went on and on…"

His hand found its way into Quatre's, or maybe it was Quatre's that found its way into his, but, there they were, holding hands as they climbed the staircase leading to the family wing and Quatre's bedroom. "I didn't mind," Trowa answered. "Did you like your sisters?" already knowing the answer.

Quatre smiled, closing his eyes and leaning his head against Trowa's arm, trusting the other to lead them to their rooms. "They're nice, aren't they? I think I like them a lot."

"Good, I'm glad." Trowa dropped a kiss on the golden head, leading down the hallway to the door that would lead into the master suites. "We can play a little if you'd like. I don't mind." He was rewarded with his blond prince snuggling closer to him and he draped his arm over the other's shoulders.

They did play-for several hours, in fact-filling the Winner Mansion with beautiful music long after Quatre's sisters retired to their own beds, peaceful smiles gracing their faces and a heart-throbbing melody playing throughout their dreams. The music played on long after the musicians put their instruments away.

 

 

He'd made his decision. He knew what he had to do. It didn't make it any easier, but he knew it had to be done. Do it now, get it over with, and then you can work on pulling back the pieces of your heart, body, soul…

Trowa shifted in the bed. He hadn't slept, not a wink. He couldn't. Not with knowing that this would be his last night with his golden prince. No, he'd stayed awake long after his lover had fallen asleep in his arms and he'd memorized every little thing he could about the boy. The way his thick, wavy bangs liked to fall into his eyes, the way he smiled, even in his sleep, the lean muscles that filled out his arms and legs and torso and…

Quatre was sleeping, but, it was like he was aware of his lover's scrutiny. He moved in his sleep, turning, rolling, displaying his body like a natural-born model. Despite the late hours they'd kept the night before, those beautiful aquamarine eyes were blinking open before the artificial daybreak could lighten the sky of L4.

"Hi," Quatre murmured, moving in closer against Trowa's body, rubbing as he snuggled closer.

"Morning," Trowa replied, shifting until that small, lithe little body fitted into his in all the right places-as if they belong like this. Forever. For an eternity. For beyond.

'You're stalling,' he accused himself.

~Do you blame me?~ he countered. ~Do you blame me for wanting this to last? For wanting-~

'Get it over with. The sooner, the better. The quicker, the less it'll hurt.'

Mentally, he sighed, trailing his lips over Quatre's temples. ~Just let me have this last morning.~ The blond's face tilted up until lips met with lips, opening, closing, drawing from, meshing, drowning. ~Just this last moment to keep.~

If there was one thing that truly amazed him about his angelic golden prince it was the blond's libido. The young Winner heir could-and probably *would*-go at it anywhere and needed very little encouragement to do so. With just one little kiss, Quatre was stirring to life and pressing closer into him, rolling Trowa onto his back as he took over the kiss, plunging into his mouth repetitively as their hips began surging, crashing against each other's.

Trowa's body was singing at Quatre's touch, moving as the smaller boy orchestrated until his legs were wrapped around his waist, his thighs squeezing him, his heels pressing his the small of his back, urging the blond boy on. 'Take me! Take me! Take me!' his body screamed. 'Please, Quatre! I need this!'

"Shh, shh," Quatre hushed, licking his throat and collarbone. "I will…" Quatre's hands caressed the hunks of his backside, squeezing, coaxing the muscles to relax into his touch as he maneuvered himself into the taller boy's body, still slick and sticky from last night's activities. He slid home.

Their cries melded together.

"Love you," Quatre murmured against Trowa's lips before kissing him, stealing away any chance the other had to reply.

Their bodies moved, taking, giving, demanding and relinquishing everything they had to offer until they were both laying there in one sweaty, panting, exhausted heap. Trowa relished this. These post-coitus moments when his blond prince laid spent against him, hot, breathing against his neck. He knew in another couple of minutes they would do it again-Quatre always went twice, once hard and fast, once slow and loving. Sometimes he even threw in a third time that was just a complete teasing-torture session. He was amazing, and Trowa loved every minute of it, even if it tore at his insides like a razor, knowing that it wouldn't, couldn't, last.

Lips began nibbling at his throat and Trowa smiled. "What are you thinking?" Quatre murmured, shifting his body up, slipping out of Trowa with slippery ease, and falling onto his side on the bed next to him. His hand traced patterns over Trowa's chest and washboard stomach-light, airy touches that teased the skin and muscles beneath.

Trowa cocked his head to look down at the blond. "That you are something else." Nails scraped down the center of his stomach.

"I hope that's a good thing," Quatre quipped, nuzzling Trowa's ear.

His muffled laughter replied as he pulled away. Quatre's hands ventured lower, skimming over Trowa's waist and hips, teasing his thighs. He buried his face in Trowa's arm, inhaling the clean, musky scent he'd learned to associate with his love, and his lips grazed the sensitive patch of flesh where arm connected to body. Trowa moaned, his body shivering.

"I could make love to you all day, Trowa Barton," he whispered.

Trowa didn't reply; just closed his eyes, shut tight and concentrated on the feeling, intent on remembering everything about this morning. They wouldn't have all day.

 

 

Three more sisters arrived that morning. Four more that afternoon. Another three were scheduled to arrive that evening and seven more tomorrow.

Trowa didn't plan on being there to meet them.

The sisters had gone shopping-something that confused him, to be sure. What possible reason was there to go shopping when you had three, four, or some even *five* suitcases stuffed with clothing upstairs in the rooms? Trowa caught his image in the mirror. The faded blue jeans and green turtle neck he'd grown out of over the past year had given away to a new pair of blue jeans-not yet faded-and a loose green long-sleeved polo shirt. Behind him, sitting on the bed, was a small duffle bag filled with his few things. He thought about packing some of the clothes Quatre had paid for, but he didn't feel right.

Besides. He wouldn't be needed any fancy clothes where he was going. And, on the off chance that he *did*, he wasn't lacking any money. It was good to have a hacker for a friend-especially when that hacker friend had set up each of the pilots with a very special "petty cash" account, courtesy of OZ, Romafeller, and White Fang, of course.

A smile pulled at his lips. It didn't last, though. Sighing, he reached for the bag, swinging it over one shoulder and exiting the room. He didn't belong there, so, why did he feel bad leaving it?

He couldn't just *leave*. Not without an explanation. He knew that. He knew Quatre deserved at least *some* explanation.

His soft rap at the study door was met with a cheery "Come in!" He dropped his bag just inside the door and looked around. It was the one room inside the entire mansion that Quatre *hadn't* shown him. He knew why. It had been Quatre's father's domain and the blond boy had been avoiding entering it-as if, if he did, when he did, his entire life would change.

One wall was lined completely with books and other textual documents. The other end boasted a refreshment bar. Directly across from the door was a wall of windows, before it, a desk. A holo-viewscreen was open, the image of a woman, middle aged, shoulder-length golden brown hair, slightly wavy at the tips, smooth complexion attentive face, nodding.

"Understood, sir," she was saying, her chocolate brown eyes looking at something out of the camera's view. "I'll have those reports ready for you by tomorrow morning. Is there anything else I can have ready for you?"

"Yes, Maxine, thank you," Quatre replied, coming from another doorway-a bathing room, Trowa noticed. "Get all the head secretaries together for me. I'd like to met with them at around 1 tomorrow."

"L4 time, sir?"

Quatre paused in tying his tie. "How 'bout this," he said, moving into the camera's lens. "You schedule it for whenever it is most convenient for all the secretaries and you just tell me when to be there. Sound good?"

The woman looked up, surprise splashed across her face. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Some have families," she hesitated, her voice wavering.

"We have a daycare here, don't we?" Quatre replied, moving out of the lens again. "Have them bring their families if needed. But I *do* want everyone to be there tomorrow. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." She swallowed and looked back at her notes.

"Please get back with me later with the time, okay?"

"Yes, sir," she replied, nodding.

"Good, that will be all. Thank you, Maxine." One key on the desk severed the call, the holo-display dissolving into empty air. Quatre turned a winning smile towards Trowa.

"There you are," he teased, coming around the desk. "I thought you might have decided to go back to sleep or something!" He moved to hug his love, but Trowa pulled away.

"Quatre…"

His smile wavered. "Is something wrong? Trowa?"

His heart was pounding in his chest. He was surprised the other boy couldn't hear it. He swallowed, willing gundanium to steal into his bones. "I'm leaving, Quatre."

There. A little less finesse than he had wanted to present it with, but it was said.

Quatre blinked and then shook his head, smiling. "Okay," he replied, moving back towards his desk. "When will you be back? We can have dinner, just you and me, tonight. Go someplace to get away from all these sisters of mine. Or, did you want me to go with you? I was going to start looking over some of these files Maxine just sent me about WEI, but I can put them off till later-"

Quatre was writing something on a paper, not really looking at Trowa. He was afraid to look at the other boy-afraid to see what might be there on the other's face.

"No, Quatre."

He froze, closing his eyes, the pen in his hand quivering as his grip around it tightened. He couldn't look; he wouldn't look.

"The war is over," Trowa said as if this was something Quatre wasn't already well aware of. Hell! He'd been right there fighting, too! "I should leave now."

He was shaking-his entire body caught in a cold sweat, trembling on his feet. He moved around the desk until he could fall into the large rolling, high-back chair. "Trowa…?" He hated the way his voice quivered. Still, he couldn't look at him. He wouldn't.

"Let's not make this anymore difficult than it has to be, Quatre," Trowa's voice was saying. He wanted him to stop. Wanted that voice to shut up. He didn't want to hear what it was trying to say. 'I'm leaving. I'm leaving. I'm leaving.' NO!

"We both know I don't belong in your world anymore than you belong in mine," Trowa voice was saying. "It was fun while it lasted, but, Quatre, it's over. Let's not try to make anything more of it than what it was: sex. Companionship during stressful times."

Nothing more than *SEX*? Companionship during stressful *TIMES*? *THIS* was *STRESS*! Who was he trying to *KID*? They had *never* had *just* *SEX*!

"I had no plans of surviving this war, Quatre, but now I have. So I have to move on."

"You can move on *right* *here*!" he finally pushed the words pasted his choked throat. "With *me*, Trowa. You can stay here with *me*!"

Trowa felt like he was dying inside-worse, like he was killing himself. It hurt worse than anything he could think of. "We both have someplace to return to, someone to return to, Quatre." He swallowed. He had *known* this wasn't going to be easy, but…

"You have your family, and WEI, to worry about," he pressed on, determined to get this over with. "I should leave. Catherine will be worried." He hesitated, wanting to go to the shaking boy and hold him, tell him everything would be okay, that it was just a nasty trick. He swallowed again. "Goodbye, Quatre…"

He reached for his bag, turning for the door. He paused one last time, before pushing himself through the door and out of his shining prince's life forever. He was crying. His face was still dry but he could feel himself crying. Inside. The dream had ended.

"Trowa, wait," Quatre whispered, his voice dry and hoarse. "Trowa!" A little bit louder this time. "TROWA! WAIT! DON'T GO!!!"

But it was already too late. Quatre looked up at the closed door, hot tears burning his eyes and cheeks. He felt like he was dead-only, the dead couldn't feel pain, could they? And he hurt so damn bad…

 

 

 

 

**In the Pale Moonlight by Andrea Readwolf**

**Part Three, Act 2**

 

“Captain on deck!” a young recruit shouted. Howard flinched, wincing at the clamor of the new crew scrambling from their stations to attention. “At ease, at ease,” he mumbled. “I’m just an old goat who owns this ship. No reason ta be salutin’ me.” He eased his tired bones into the captain’s chair. “Besides, boy, if ya wanna get it straight, it’s ‘Admiral’, not just ‘captain’.” He winked at the flushing young man and sent out the order for the Ghebriel to head out. They had some junk to pick up.

 

 

She sat in her room—she was very rarely allowed *out* of her room—watching the newsfeed as they scrolled across her vidscreens, kicking her tiny legs back and forth beneath her chair. She seemed incredibly small for the large desk and executive chair she sat at—engulfed by it, it seemed. The grey skirt and jacket was terribly drab for a child of her age—only 7, last month, and the unhealthy pallor of her skin spoke of the lack of sunshine and fresh air in her life.

Large cornflower blue eyes watched the screens intently, drinking in the sight of the man flashing across most of them. And then her excitement choked on itself and she watched in horror as the realization of what the newsfeeds were saying rang clear.

“Treize Khushrenada, age 26, leader of the Organization of the Zodiac and the Earth Forces, was killed in the final battle of the Eve War—“

“Vice Minister Dorian has agreed to stay in the colonies to help with relief efforts—“

“The Earth Forces suffered a terrible blow when their leader, Treize Khushrenada, was killed in battle—“

“Relena Peacecraft, former Queen of the World, has refused position as President of the Earth Sphere and has instead, thrown her support towards Senator Lumbardi.”

“He left behind no immediate family—“

“Garabaldi Lumbardi will be assuming role as President of the Earth Sphere—“

“Funeral services will be held—“

“Colonel Anne Middi Une has been handling the affairs—“

The screens flickered to black. The little girl frowned. “I was watching that,” she said.

“Miss Mariemeia, the time has come to increase your training,” the old man behind her replied. “Soon now, you will be ready to succeed your father as proper ruler of the Earth Sphere.”

She turned in her large executive chair, her legs resuming their cheerful kicking. “Oh good!” She smiled. The old man smiled.

 

 

Howard was down in the cargo bay when the Ghebriel rendezvoused with the Alachua. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming!” the captain of the Alachua laughed.

“Nah, stopped to pick up a few hunks of junk along the way,” Howard replied. “How do they look?”

The captain wiped a sweat rag across the face and neck. “Pretty ugly, Howard, I gotta tell ya.”

“Auh, that’s nothing—they always were the ugly ones,” the old man tried to joke. He was met with nervous laughter. “How bad?” he asked, feeling his throat dry out.

“Pretty bad,” the captain admitted. “One was shot and with them being out in space so long without immediate care—well, my medic tried to do everything he could, but, hell, Howard! He’s not a miracle worker!”

“I know, I know…” Howard sighed. “They alive at least?”

The captain shot him an injured look. “Give me a little credit, will ya?” The captain motioned to one of Alachua’s crew. “I take it you wanna get ‘em on board and take ‘em home with you Asap, huh?” Howard nodded. “Figured. Had my medic set them up for travel, they’ll be good until you can get ‘em to a proper medical facility.”

“Thanks, Liz, I appreciate this.” Howard gave the woman a hug and then pulled out.

“No, prob, How,” she whispered after him with a ghost of a smile. “No problem at all…” She turned back to her ship. “Get crackin’ people! Move it! Move it! Move it!”

 

 

He didn’t exactly make the clean-up crews’ job any easier—blasting his way through any debris that got in his way; but, at the time, he couldn’t really say he cared. He couldn’t say he cared about anything, actually, and he wasn’t sure if that scared him even more than caring *too* much.

He was in shock, a part of his mind reasoned. He didn’t care, another argued. He didn’t know, he cried.

He cried.

He hid himself away in the loneliness, the emptiness of space, and cried.

New tears washed his face when he looked up and realized where exactly he was: Home.

He had come home without even meaning to… but there was no home to come to. Only empty space where a colony once floated. He was surprised—having thought that there would at least be *something* left to mark the proud civilization that had lived here up until three, four months ago. Even if it was only a piece of scrap, suspended in time.

Nothing. There was nothing. The clean up crews had done too good a job. Not even a scrap was left behind as a reminder of the proud people who had destroyed themselves… Destroyed themselves… Destroyed themselves to save him.

It wasn’t worth it. One life wasn’t worth the amount of death it had cost him. *He* wasn’t worth the lives of his people. Six clans had lived on his home satellite. Six families, so intertwined by marriage and blood, they were really one. One large family, that had given up their lives, their heritage… for him.

“Why?!” he screamed at the empty space where his colony should be. “WHY!!!!”

~He knew he could count on you~

Lady Une’s words revisited him and Wufei’s stomach heaved.

 

 

He had the Ghebriel drop them off at a small satellite on the outskirts of L2— it was just one of many of that type of satellites that the sweepers maintained— before sending the ship on its way to drop its load. The satellite had been expecting them and Howard secretly thanked Craig for his fore thinking.

“Howard! Oh my goodness! Why do you boys *have* to go seeking trouble! Oh my goodness! Thank the *stars* you’re alright! Where’s your brother? He better be alright too, or I’ll give him a lickin’ he won’t be forgetting!”

The old man just laughed and scooped up the little old woman in a giant hug. “Ah! Maddie! It’s good ta see ya, woman!”

“Put me down! Put me down this *instant*! You old goat! You’ll throw yer back out!” Howard continued to laugh, but he did set her down on her own two feet. “That’s better!”

He just shook his head and then moved aside, allowing the others to gather up his companions. “They’re sleeping right now,” he answered quickly at the old woman’s cry. “But they’re alive, and that’s the important thing. I was… hoping… that, maybe… you could… work your mumbo-jumbo on them…?”

“My—why you--!!!” She raised her walking stick high as if to strike him, and then turned around and laughed instead. “I tell ya! I tell ya! Leaves me alone for years, makes me worry ‘bout him, and then, when he finally gets his ass back ‘ere, whadduz he do? He *insults* me! That’s what!” She laughed again and turned down out of the cargo bay. “You heard the man, boys! Bring those good-fer-nothing, lazy-assed, would-be scientists to my rooms!”

Howard just laughed. Crazy ole’ Madeline—always could be counted on.

 

 

He was dead.

Well, of course he was dead. That was the risk of fighting in wars. You risked the chance of death. It was a very real possibility. Look at her mother. Her mother had been younger than *him*, and she had died. She had died because she disobeyed Dekim. She had failed, and God punished her.

Dekim told her. Dekim explained to her that her mother had defied God and that’s why God took her away. He’d also explained that, because of her failure, *she* had to be twice as good, twice as special. And she was. Her paternity made sure of that. She didn’t really understand how, but Dekim had told her it was because of her blood. Her blood was special because Treize Khushrenada was her father.

It made her really. really happy to know someone as wonderful and important as Treize Khushrenada was her father.

She wished she could meet him. She had planned it out all in her head—what she would wear, what she would say… if she ever got to meet him.

But that wouldn’t happen now. Treize Khushrenada was dead. Her father was dead. A man she had never met, would never meet, was dead. Lost to her forever. Like her mother.

She looked at one of the small photographs in a silver frame. It was her mother, smiling for the camera, her strawberry golden hair wrapped around her head like a halo. It was Mariemeia’s favorite picture of her mother; one of the few she had left to remember her by. Set in the same frame was another photograph, this one of her father.

He was very handsome, she thought. He had very royal bloodlines, her gran— Dekim had told her. That was why she was so important. Her blood was so important. Dekim had told her. There was only one other person who held better blood in her veins. Only one other person who was fit enough to rule the Earth Sphere.

But Relena Peacecraft had declined that honor and that was why she, Mariemeia Khushrenada, would rule the World.

 

 

Howard was slunched over a bowl of gruel in his quarters when his comm unit went off. “This is Howard, speak to me,” he called, fending off a yawn and rubbing his tired eyes.

“Git yer lily-white ass down here, young man. They’re wakin’ up.”

Howard was grinning like a mad dog, but already on his feet. “Maddie, my love, I think you’re about the only person alive who can get away with callin’ *me* a ‘young man’.”

He was already out the door.

 

 

Moans and groans met his ears the second the doors whooshed open for him. He almost hesitated going in. ‘Don’t be a silly-nilly,’ he scolded himself. ‘Silly-nilly’? Oh great stars! He’d been hanging around Maddie too long, he lamented.

“Do go standing in my doorway, you old goat!”

Howard chuckled and stepped in, the door whooshing shut behind his heels. “You, are the *only* woman, who can go callin’ me a ‘young man’ one minute and then turn around an’ call me an ‘old goat’ the next!” He dropped a kiss on her cheek before moving over to one of the medic beds set up in the room.

“I thought you said they were up?” he asked, looking down at the nightmarish face on the pillow.

“No, I said they’s be *waking* up, not that they up yet,” she snapped, huffing as she leaned back against a worktable. “Oh gods, but I’m tired. Staying up all night with ‘em was not exactly my way of planning ta celebrate you’s boys’ return, ya know?”

“Not too good a sleep last night, huh?” he asked, coming round the bed to knead her knotted shoulders.

“Sleep? Ha! That’s a good one, Howie,” she retorted, her head lolling forward.

“You haven’t called me ‘Howie’ in years!” he laughed.

“You haven’t been around in *years*,” she snorted.

“Oh gooo~ods! Would you two cut it out already? I think I’m getting a cavity!”

Maddie was on her feet and moving to the bed in a heartbeat. “You’d be lucky if that’s all you be getting from this here little incident of yours!” she huffed. “What do you think you be doing? Being on that ship when it’s about to blow, huh? And when them Gundams are there, too! You be thinking to *die*! That’s what you be thinking!”

“Oh, don’t scold me, Maddie! I’m a sick man!” the mushroom-headed man with the extended nose moaned.

“Yeah, you’re looking pretty ugly, too,” Howard quipped.

One beady eye cracked open before sealing shut again. The man on the bed groaned. “What are *you* doing here anyway.”

“Saving your butt, that’s what,” the old sweeper replied.

“Just mine? What about the others?” He struggled to sit up, but Maddie was there, pushing him back against the bed.

“They’re here, too,” Maddie ensured. “Just like one big, happy, family reunion!” Two snorted grunts answered her. “You don’t mean to tell me you boys are still not talking to each other?”

Silence answered here.

“Oh, come *on*! You boys are *brothers* for crying out loud!”

“By a mistake of parentage, I assure you,” the bedded man replied.

Howard snorted. “I still think you were adopted.”

“Why you—” He tried to lunge for the other man, but his body was too weak to comply and he ended up almost falling off the bed.

“If you’re wanting to heal faster, that not be the way to be doing it, Garret Green,” Maddie commented, resting her fists on her hips as Howard caught the weak man and rolled him back into the bed.

“Oh, shuddup,” Garret complained.

She smirked and turned away from the bed. “Get some more rest, boy. Your body be needing it to heal. Your brother ain’t going anywhere for a while, are ya, Howard.”

“No,” he admitted grudgingly.

“See, so he’ll be here when ya wake up and are feeling better, and you two can fight till your little old heart’s content. Fine? Fine.” She huffed and reaching inside a rolling cabinet. “You have a choice: pills or shot?” she offered, turning around and holding two little green pills in one hand, and a decent sized syringe in the other.

“Whichever works quicker,” Garret answered, ready to be rid of his aching body.

“Syringe it is!” Maddie smiled. “This won’t hurt a bit…”

 

 

He moved on to another colony in the fifth LaGrange point area. It wasn’t home, but at least it was familiar. Hiding his gundam was not easy, but it wasn’t difficult for him, either. He had money, but no home. He had experience, but no duty to fulfill. He was lost.

Wufei wandered the streets lined with colorful storefronts—reds and greens and yellows. No respectable business left their building white—white was the color of death, a very unlucky color. The familiar colors of his youth surrounded him, enfolded him, trapping him in their promised comfort of home. The bright green of lucky jade ornaments, the rich red and golden silks, the polished woods. Round-faced, flame-whiskered dragons danced around him; glorious phoenixes arose from ashes, paper white cranes posed against black lacquer.

It was home—but it wasn’t. He stopped in at a small restaurant, almost expecting to see Meilou or Yin from the his own colony—but, of course, his old friends weren’t there. He would never see them again.

He felt weird, tingly yet nerveless. As if his body were decomposing around him, while he was still trapped in it. He studied the bottom of his soup bowl as if it might hold the answers for him, but it didn’t.

He paid his tab and left, his appetite turned rancid.

What was he supposed to do now?

The question hung in the air around him, weighed down upon his shoulders, made him ready to fall to his knees and scream out his pain and frustration.

He continued walking down the street.

 

 

Howard took a sip from his mug, savoring the way the strong, dark sludge poured over his tongue and down his throat to settle in the bottom of his belly. He let out a satisfied sigh.

“I don’t suppose you’d give me a taste,” a sulky voice whined.

Howard didn’t bother to open his eyes as he relished the sensations of another sip. “You’re supposed to be recovering, boy,” he replied, allowing the steam from the coffee to warm his face. “Besides, don’t you know coffee’ll stunt your growth?”

“Hmphf.”

He laughed and conceded, handing over the mug with a caution. “It’s hot, now. And don’t be tellin’ Maddie I’m givin’ ya caffeine. She’ll bust both our butts.”

“You’re too soft, Howard,” another voice called out from another bed. “You always baby him.”

“Oh! Shut up!” Garret mumbled, wincing as the burning liquid hit his tongue.

“Well, since you’re taking orders,” another voice intoned, “perhaps a cup of tea would be accessible?”

“You still drinking that weak stuff, Hilel?” Howard scoffed. “We need to get some good old American coffee in your veins. That’ll get you boys up and jumping again!”

“I don’t know about jumping,” another voice moaned, “But up would be preferable to down at this moment.”

“Are you planning on informing us of current events?” another bed’s occupant spoke up. “Or are we prisoners here, too, who don’t even deserve to know what’s going on in the world?”

“Ha!” Howard laughed. “You don’t need me to make ya all prisoners! Seems to me you’ve been doing quite a fine job all on your own!”

“Ha ha ha,” Garret dead-panned. “Very funny. I’ll have you know we accomplished a lot for *just* being prisoners.”

“Yes, I saw the modifications on 02 and 05,” Howard nodded. “Nice work.”

“Thank you,” Garret and Osiris replied.

“Though, I gotta know--*when* did you have the time to build Zero?”

“We didn’t,” Garret replied with a frown. Howard’s questioning look prompted Hilel to answer.

“Quatre Winner, pilot of 04, built the Zero suit from schematics left in storage where 04 was built.”

Howard stared at the orange-skinned man with the wiry mustache with wide eyes. “Sweet, innocent little Quatre pulled that off all by himself?!” The disbelief and mockery in his voice warred with each other.

“That *sweet* *innocent* little boy is also a gundam pilot,” Garret remarked, closing his eyes and letting the heat of the coffee mug penetrate through his chest. “And is responsible for the death of an entire colony as well as his team mate.”

“Team mate?” Howard jumped. “And just which one is that?”

“Trowa Barton,” Seagram hissed, looking away at the wall.

“Hn. That’s funny!” Howard scratched his head. “Trowa looked pretty good for a dead man. Didn’t think Quatre was into necrophilia, but, hey! Who knows!”

“WHAT?!”

Howard nearly choked on his laughter. As it was, he couldn’t talk and his silence was bloated with questions pouring from the four men.

“Pilot 03 is alive?”

“What do you mean ‘necrophilia’?”

“What about Duo? Is he alright?”

“What the hell happened?”

“Will you all just shut UP!”

Silence ruled again as five heads snapped in unison to face the fifth bed set up in the make-shift medical care unit.

The man was motionless save for the gentle, rhythmic, rise and fall of his chest. Straight salt-and-pepper gray hair, one arm folded over his chest, held there by thick, gauzy bandages, the other arm uncannily absent; spectacle goggles off, blind eyes shut—the man looked deceased, laid out ready for the coffin.

But he wasn’t. He was alive and awake and his voice rang with authority. Even Howard, 4 years the man’s senior, jumped at its hearing.

The head turned, inching against the pillow with gruelish lack of speed until it faced them. It was like a skeleton’s face—hollow, bony, lacking meat and substance. Muscles twitched under the drawn skin even before the jaw dropped open and it began to speak.

“Is the war *finally* over, Howard?” Samuel Jackson asked, his voice tight and constricted, laced with pain and age.

Howard nodded before realizing Sam’s specs were off and he couldn’t see him. “Yep,” he answered when he found his voice. “You could say that. You boys have been out of the loop for about five weeks now, but the war’s over. Everybody’s busy reconstructing.”

“That’s good, that’s good,” J murmured, taking in a large, heavy breath. “and the pilots. They are well, I trust.”

“As well as they can be,” Howard was quick with the reply this time. “Quatre took a hit to the side with a sword, but other than that, they’re all fine last I heard.”

“Good, good…”

“And you said 03 was still alive?” S cut in before J could say more.

Howard nodded and verbally confirmed. “All the gundam pilots are alive and kicking.” Seagram smiled and closed his eyes.

“Where are they now?” Garret asked.

“Well, last I heard… Trowa and Quatre took off to the L4 states, and Duo and Heero are somewhere here in L2.”

“What about Wufei?” O questioned, frowning.

“Well, now, see, that’s the funny part.” Howard wiped the back of his neck. “No one *knows* where Wufei is right about now, but, don’t worry! I’m sure he’ll pop his head up somewhere eventually.”

“Yes, perhaps,” the balded man replied, more to himself than the others.

 

 

~But he *is* a confused teenaged boy who's just lost everything that was installed upon him as being important: family, home, honor, respect, strength. ~

Wufei whirled, fruitlessly trying to face his assaulter but no one was there. The small apartment he rented seemed to grow smaller, the walls seemed to close in on him and he gasped for breath. And then another emotion rose up to overcome the panic.

~He's angry, he feels used and betrayed.~

He screamed. “SHUT UP!!!”

He panted, body tense, waiting. When nothing happened, when no one said anything, he collapsed into a pile on the dingy, hard wood floor. His fists banged against the boards as he sobbed out his frustrations.

He *was* angry! What *right* did they have to do this to him! To *use* him for *their* cause! To *betray* him like that! To leave him alone! All of them! They’d abandoned him!

And… and… and TRIEZE! He was angry with Trieze for... for... for *QUITTING*. For giving up like he did instead of fighting to live—the damn fool wasn't even wearing a space helmet! There was no way for him to survive—otherwise he could have jumped clear from his suit before it exploded. No. Trieze gave up. He sacrificed himself and he used Wufei to do it.

Chang Wufei is a failure. He couldn't save his wife. He couldn't save his family. He couldn't save his home. He couldn't even save his enemy.

So what right did he have to live?

Really? What reason does he have to live anymore?

He’s a soldier now. A trained killer. Not the little schoolboy who used to follow Master O around, who used to read however many books he could get his little hands upon.

Wufei looked down at his hands. When was the last time he’d even picked up a book? When was the last time he had done something with those hands that didn’t involve pain, or suffering, or death.

A smiling, happy-go-lucky face flashed before him with laughing violet-hued eyes and spiky chestnut-colored bangs fringing them.

Duo.

‘Any regrets?’ ‘No, none.’ ‘Good.’

Wufei fell face forward onto the floor, allowing the cool wood to try and penetrate through the fire racing along his skull, choking on his own breath and spittle.

There are no more wars. No more fighting. What purpose does he have now? He can't go back to his life before, because it no longer exists. Did they think about that when they fucking killed themselves? Did they think about how they were leaving him alone, to fight on his own, without a concrete reason to fight anymore!

Justice? Justice? Was it justice that he was alone? Was this his justice? Come back to him? For killing so many, now he was condemned to be alone. For causing so many deaths, deaths of soldiers, killed by his hands, was his own family condemned to death?

And what did he do to stop them? Those soldiers who had come to kill him. Long Shi Lin—had she foreseen this? Could he have prevented this outcome somehow?

What *could* he have done to stop them? They forced him into this role. They sat him up in a pilot's chair and told him to fight for justice. But was that what he was really doing? Why him? Why did it have to be him? Why couldn't he have been just another one of the kids on that colony that day. Why couldn't they have killed him too, with them, instead of leaving him alone to find his own way? Huh? Why? Why!

Wufei fell asleep there, slumped over on the floor.

 

 

 

 

**In the Pale Moonlight by Andrea Readwolf**

**Part Four Act Two**

 

“You look dull. Have you been taking your vitamins?”

Relena Peacecraft Dorian sighed, rolled her eyes, and ran a hand through her honey-wheat bangs. “Of course I am,” she told the beautiful blonde woman in her vidscreen. “It would be silly to get sick now of all times.”

“Exactly,” Geraldine Dorian acknowledge with a nod. “And you should make sure to get enough sleep, too. If you’re tired, just ask to continue at a later time, when you’re fresh, and can give their problems a clear mind to work with! No sense in trying to heal the wounds of the world when you’re ready to fall asleep. Your father was like that—always paying more attention to the problems of others than his own. And look where it got him!”

It took Mrs. Dorian another two minutes of one-sided rambling before she noticed her daughter’s unnatural silence. “Relena? What is it? Do you need to go lay down for a bit? I’m sure this is a very harrowing time for you. If you need anything, anything at all, you know you just have to ask me and you know I’ll do everything in my power to help you—“

“Mom.” Large, doe-like blue eyes looked up into the vidscreen, heavy with unshed tears. “I never—“ Her voice cracked and Relena had to swallow before trying again. “It’s so terrible on some of these colonies. How could they…” She shook her head.

Mrs. Dorian was saddened as well. “I know, dear. I know,” she said softly. “That’s why I never tried to stop your father when he was always running off to the colonies, trying to help.” She was quiet for another moment before she smiled at her daughter. “I’m glad you are there now to help them. Perhaps… Perhaps one day it will be safe enough for me to return. I miss living among the stars…”

Relena looked up with a gasp. “You lived in the colonies?”

Mrs. Dorian was smiling, a sad, nostalgic smile as she nodded. “Born and raised in L2—I’d never even set foot off-colony until I met your father.”

“Oh.”

They lapsed into another silence, unmindful of the money it was costing to maintain the link between colony and earth, as each struggled to find words for what they wanted to say. Mrs. Dorian suddenly gave a little laugh.

“I had always wanted several children, but, with your father’s hectic schedule, there never seemed a good time… and then, one day, by miracle, he brought you home to me.” Mrs. Dorian studied her growing daughter’s pretty face. The miracle had been wrought through a nightmare, but she had never regretted the opportunity of motherhood the fall of the Sank Kingdom had presented her with. She reached out to touch the soft, rosy cheek of her daughter, her fingers meeting with the cold surface of the vidscreen instead. A poor substitute.

“Mother…” Relena was careful to chose her words, wanting the woman’s help, but unsure of the reaction to what she had to say. She studied the face of the only woman she had ever thought of, remembered as, ‘mother’. A smiling, soft- faced blonde woman with kind, dark blue eyes. “Would you…” She stopped.

“What is it, Relena, dear?” Geraldine asked, her voice soft and kind and as loving as the young woman had always known it to be.

Her chest ached; her eyes burned, her throat swelled around her tongue until she thought she might choke. “Mother, I *do* have a favour to ask you…”

“What is it, darling? You know I’ll do whatever I can.”

Relena nodded and coaxed the words she’d held inside herself for the past four weeks now, since Lucrezia had contacted her with the information, asking for instructions. “My brother, is alive…” she whispered, looking up quickly to catch the older woman’s reaction.

Eyes widened, lips parted in a quick intake of breath. This, of course, no one had really expected after the explosion of the space fortress, Libra, and, along with it, the scarlet gundam Epyon. But, by some miracle as Relena saw it, her brother, Milliardo Peacecraft had survived. Or, at least, his body had survived.

“He’s unconscious,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with pent-up emotion. “In Sank. Lieutenant Noin is with him right now. As few people as possible know of his survival, if it can be called that.” She was quiet for a moment, before adding, “The doctors are still not sure if he will ever wake up…”

“Relena…” It was a soft cry, filled with empathy for the young woman she had grown to love as much as she would have loved any child of her own flesh and blood. “Would you… would you like me to go to Sank,” she asked, swallowing the tightness in her throat and chest down. “And stay with him?”

A look of relief and love lightened the young woman’s face and blue eyes. “Would you?” she asked, her relief even lifting her voice.

Geraldine Dorian smiled and blinked away threatening tears. “Of course, dear. After all,” she caught her daughter’s full attention again. “By extension, he’s my son…”

“Thank you, Mother,” Relena replied, unmindful of the tears that had began to slip down over her cheeks. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” the older woman answered, brushing her fingers over the image of her daughter’s face. “Get some rest, dear. You’ll need it, I’m sure.”

 

 

They stayed on MOII mainly because Doce Behr refused to leave while she was still needed—and the wounded were still coming in on the fourth day after the battle. It was hard to think of it as the “final battle”, even though that how others referred to it. “The Final Battle of the Eve War”.

The Behr girls got a kick out of that. “Eve War”. Of course, it was kind of a neat coincidence that the war had lasted exactly one year—from the day the Gundams were sent to Earth, to the day the gundams turned around and saved Earth’s backside. Oh, they wasted no time in finding out what transpired while they were out taking care of the Margolaine Satellite and the new Zero-fitted mobile dolls in manufacture there.

They were surprised that in the two days their mission took them, the war had ended, but then, sometimes, after dragging along for months or years unending, when these things *did* end, it always seemed sudden. And the aftermath was usually hell.

Hell for the survivors who tried to piece their lives back together—who had to deal with those who *didn’t* survive, what was left, what was missing. Jack was sentenced to recuperation for a minimum of five days and was confined to the family suite Doce had managed to snatch up for her and her sisters—a fact that, after the third day, did *not* settle well with the normally-active, young, dark-haired woman. The other girls volunteered their services to the medical staff, hoping to ease the disappointment of missing out on battle by living it vicariously through the soldiers who fought it.

Katalynna flirted outrageously with all the men, while Carina’s bubbly attitude cheered up even the most stubborn of the old grumps. Ochenta had recorded more letters for family members than she could ever remember writing for herself. Of all the girls, however, it was Blaire and Devenley who both felt the most hopeless, yet helped the most. Their simple presence in a room somehow managed to alleviate the pain and misery that seemed to run rampant through the medical space station. The result was a drain on the two blonde sisters that left them dragging back to their rooms at the end of each day cycle.

After one such harrowing day, they sat together at the dining table, nursing cups of warm, fragrant tea, letting the heat sink through their hands and into their bones, trying to chase away the chill of death that had followed each girl throughout the days. So many… so many men and woman—young and old, brave fighters for the cause; it didn’t matter what cause anymore—who had made it to MOII only to die.

“How do you feel?” Blaire broke the silence, looking up from her cup.

“Confused,” Dev answered without thinking about it. “Tired. Determined. Sad.” She stopped, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. And then dull, marine-like eyes looked up into her sister’s. “I feel drained.”

Blair nodded, curly yellow bangs falling into her face despite the amount of gel used to slick them back. “Why don’t you go ahead and try and get some sleep,” she suggested, knowing her sister wouldn’t be able to get any more rest than she herself had been able to get in the last week.

“No, not just physically tired,” Dev said, her voice sounding weary and old. “I’m mentally, emotionally tired. Drained. I’m just…” She shook her head, too tired to even care about the right words to describe how she felt.

“You need to rest,” Blaire told her softly, understanding perfectly because she felt the same way herself—and she knew she had better psychological blocks set up than her sister did. “When we get out of here, we should all take some time off. Maybe go to the Sands for a bit,” she suggested, already feeling better at the prospect of returning home for some time.

“What about him?”

The question was one that had weighed on her own mind, but she’d already come to a conclusion. Still… “What about him?” she returned.

“Do you think—“

“No.”

Dev looked at her, obviously not agreeing with her sister’s judgment. “It’s obvious he doesn’t know about us, Blaire.”

“And what’s wrong with keeping it that way?” her sister responded, sipping her cooling tea.

“Why would you want to? There’s nothing left forcing us to remain Behr!” Dev shook her head, confused. “What’s wrong with wanting to embrace the truth? The Shining Prince of the Desert—“

“Is dead,” Blaire cut off sharply, looking up with glaciers for eyes. “Don’t delude yourself, Dev. He has no reason to care about us, even if he knew.”

“But—“

“No.” They were silent, glaring at one another as the word hung heavy in the air between them… and then Blaire softened. “It’s a waste of time to think about it, Dev. Put it from your mind. We’re Behr.”

“Not by blood!” the white-haired girl cried, upset. “By blood we’re—“

“We are the daughters of Amaria Behr,” Blaire snapped.

“And the Sands!”

“Which is why we should return to them for a time,” Blaire replied smoothly, her voice lacking the heat from the moment before. “Refresh our bodies and minds in the heat of the Sands.”

“Fine,” Dev gave in grudgingly. “But I still think we should tell him.”

“Don’t.” Blaire shook her head, the yellow curls brushing her ears. “Don’t think about it. He’s not ready for the truth, Dev. Even if we were ready to tell him. So don’t think about it anymore.”

“How can you be so sure?”

She was silent for a moment before answering, “Because he couldn’t read my mind.”

 

 

Anne looked around the office and sighed. How many times had she come into this office to find Master Treize sitting at his desk or standing by the window or studying the large painting set up on the one wall, always with a glass of wine in hand? He had always known what to say, what to do, and she trusted him blindly.

Even in death, she still trusted him.

Perhaps that was foolish of her. After all, why would anyone in their right mind trust a phantom? But she did. Treize Khushrenada’s entire estate was left to her, one Anne Middi Une, as stated by his will to do with what she saw fit.

What the will did not state was that Treize had left a separate letter for the Lady, which included instructions for the dissolvement of his estate. After death there was nothing left to prevent the young Lady from ignoring the letter addressed to her. Treize even said as much in his last letter to her, telling her this was not an order and she was under no obligation what-so-ever to follow through with his instructions if, at the time, she knew of something better to do with his belongings then he, at time of writing, did. In which case, he readily reminded her that what was his was now entirely hers.

He knew her too well, perhaps. Trusting her with his estate. But she trusted him as well. Trusted his trust in choosing her to finish this last task for him. Did he know Milliardo would be unable to do this for him, she wondered, reading over the letter yet another time.

Money had been set aside for herself as expressed by Treize’s wishes. This money was to go to no other person but herself. ‘You are your own woman, Anne,’ he wrote under the sum. ‘Let no one dictate your life. I have been honored to have known you and been served by your loyalty. Be happy.’ It was enough money to live the rest of her life on and she’d cried openly.

But before she could live her own life, she had one last duty to the man she had loved and admired. Anne looked over the list of artifacts that the lawyers had turned over to her after the quiet reading of the will this morning. They were now her belongings. Eyes skimming over the columns of holdings, she wondered briefly if Treize had any idea just how much he had possessed materially. Of course, after the death of Duke Dormail, Treize’s holdings had increased—the old man had never changed his will when his grandson fell out of favor with him, and, as a result, it still listed Treize as one of his beneficiates.

Sighing heavily, she fell into the command chair behind the desk. With a start she realized it was the first time she had ever sat in this chair, sat behind this desk. Unwarranted, tears began to sting at her eyes and her throat clamped shut as she tried valiantly to swallow back the sobs that threatened.

It was a losing battle and, finally giving up, Anne folded her arms over the desk and cried herself out—again.

 

 

Sally managed to convince Noin into leaving Zechs’s side for a little bit. “He’s not going anywhere, chicky,” she commented, practically having to drag the dark-haired woman from the room. They were both in Sank, Sally following Noin when the young woman insisted on accompanying her prince back to their home country.

The capital city was busy trying to rebuild after Romerfeller’s “rescuing” of their princess, but the city was still habitable. The palace was wrecked in several areas, but that could be rebuilt. All around, the city was busy with restoration—the streets were cleared of all debris and buildings and homes were busily being resurrected. Despite this, or maybe because of this, Noin had chosen to take the young unconscious prince to a country estate.

With only a skeleton staff that were all loyal to the Peacecraft family and guaranteed discreteness of their wounded prince’s health, the estate remained quiet—free from news reels and government officials who might demand restitution of the unconscious man. Every day, Noin sat by Zechs’s beside. Every night, she contacted Relena with little more to report on her brother’s status other than he was still breathing. Both girls knew that that commodity alone was more than either had expected when Libra had exploded, taking the red gundam with it. Both knew they should be thankful to have that small blessing given them. But both girls couldn’t help but hope for more.

Milliard Peacecraft’s injuries were extreme. His body—if he recovered—would forever carry scars. The doctors on MOII hadn’t worried with “prettiness” when he came to them already near-dead. He *had* died while on the operating table—three times his heart stopped beating. But the medical staff had been prepared for that—had had special equipment set up and at hand that would allow them to continue pumping blood through the young man’s body as they struggled to remove shards of metal and close large gashes of skin. Bones were reset, life-giving blood plasma was added to his own deplenished blood supply. Space freeze was battled and until the young man woke up, it wouldn’t be known if it had been successfully repelled.

Milliard Peacecraft suffered a great possibility that he might never move again— whether he woke up or not. He was in worse shape than his adversary, Heero Yuy, had been in when *he’d* self-dentonated his mobile suit, and for a number of reasons.

  1. Heero had been outside of his gundam when Wing exploded; Zechs had still been inside Eypon.
  2. Heero had only to battle the force of gravity; Zechs had battled the cold vacuum of space.



Still, if the will has any influence over these things, Lucrezia Noin’s will was adamant that the young man would *live*, and he *would* wake up, and he *would* walk again and be all right. If her will was strong enough…

Sally Po’s will was strong as well and at the moment she was very adamant that the young woman should go take a bath and get something to eat. “You’re beginning to smell and you have circles under your eyes and your wasting away to nothing just sitting here!” The Chinese woman chided. “You’re not doing anyone a lick of good like this. Now *go*!”

Too tired to really protest—and a bath really *did* sound nice—Noin finally left Zechs’s bedside with one last lingering look for the man on the bed, laying, immobile.

 

 

“I’d like to be home for my birthday,” she sighed, dragging a soft-bristle brush through her honey-wheat hair. “I would like to be with friends and family, even if it’s only for a day or two.”

“Of course,” Noin replied, staring off at a spot somewhere in front of the vidscreen, her body shutting down from fatigue while her mind raced on without it. “But do you think that’s wise, Relena? Can you afford to leave the colonies at a time like this?”

“I haven’t visited all the colonies, yet, it’s true,” the young Vice Minister replied, staring at the ends of her growing hair. ‘It’s time to get it cut again,’ she thought offhandedly. “But I need to get away, and my birthday is a perfect excuse.” She looked up and noticed her friend’s dazed expression.

“Noin…” Her voice was soft and sad. The other woman snapped to attention . “I’ve decided. Can you tell Lady Une that I would appreciate it if she erected Milliard’s tombstone next to Treize’s. I think my brother would appreciate that if—“ she paused and shook her head. “*When* he wakes up,” she corrected.

“Of course,” Noin nodded.

“And… Noin?” Relena’s voice caught and offscreen, her fingers played with the bristles of the brush. “Is there any word…? On that other matter we discussed?”

Noin’s head bowed to hide a grimace, but she replied affirmatively. “She’s been found, alive.”

“Good, I’m glad.” Relena’s smile of relief confirmed the statement. “Where is she now? Was she hurt?”

“No, she got off Libra before it exploded,” Noin answered, clearly displeased with the person in question. “She’s staying at her family’s estate right now. Relena, you *do* realize that she’s the one who hurt Quatre Winner, don’t you?”

“I’m sure Dorothy had her reasons,” Relena frowned. “She *is* awfully good at saber, but, Quatre’s a gundam pilot, and, besides, they knew each other in Sank. It doesn’t make sense why she would—“

“It doesn’t matter if it makes sense!” Noin snapped, anger infusing her words. “She *did* it! She could have very easily *killed* him!”

“But she didn’t,” Relena replied softly. “She didn’t, but she could have.” She looked up, her blue eyes looking directly into Noin’s. “And that makes a difference.”

Noin shook her head and mumbled something about too-forgiving of hearts. “Would you like me to have someone pick her up?”

“No, no… That’s alright. I’m too busy right now to even hunt her out myself,” Relena sighed. “Besides, it should be her that comes to me in this. Not the other way around.”

Noin just shook her head and sighed.

 

 

When Geraldine Dorian moved into the Peacecraft country estate, she took over with a vengeance. Setting herself up in the room adjoining Zechs’s, she became the over-protective mother duck and Zechs, her duckling. At first, Noin couldn’t help but feel hostile towards the woman who uprooted her position at the unconscious man’s bedside. But slowly, as the woman’s reign over the manor extended and Noin got to know the woman better, the Latin woman relaxed. Suddenly, Noin felt more at ease leaving Zechs’s bedside for a few hours a day without worrying over the man. Geraldine was there and the woman wasn’t about to let *anything* come near him that would cause him harm. Treize Khushrenada could walk in there and demand to see the unconscious man and Geraldine would tell him to turn right around and high-tail it home.

Not that he ever would. Not now anyway. Not ever anymore.

It would still be another couple of months before Noin felt comfortable enough to move back into the action of government, but for now she remained in Sank, helping Relena from afar as she kept watch over the unconscious Sank prince.

 

 

“We can’t stay here,” the dark girl with the thick, black-framed glasses announced one night when all the sisters had finally managed to gather together in one place, munching on salad and nachos.

“Why do you say that?” Kat asked, snatching up a chip and crunching down on it with a loud bite. Her long, cherry-black hair was loose and falling over her shoulders and halfway down her back as she leaned over onto the table and snatched up another chip. “Some of the guys here are pretty hot for wounded soldiers.”

“Is that all you think about?” Nita snapped, rolling her eyes. “And get your hair out of the salsa!”

“I agree,” Jack spoke up, shifting her salad around in her bowl with a fork. “I think it’s time we leave, too.” She looked up when her sisters fell silent to find all six staring at her with varying looks of hope, confusion, disagreement, and smugness.

“Not everyone is healed yet, Jack,” Doce was saying, frowning heavily.

“The station is moving, dropping off the wounded at other sites, Doc,” her sister replied. “And many have already left on their own, eager to return home.” She paused, looking down at her plate. “I would like to return home for a bit, too,” she added, shooting a look towards her two blonde sisters before facing the remaining girls.

“You mean back to the island?” Rini asked, frowning. “But it’s nicer here…”

“No,” Blaire put in. “She means return to the Sands, don’t you, Jack?”

The still-bruised teen nodded, studying her salad as if it hid the secrets to their future. “Home,” she said softly.

“What’s—what’s ‘the sands?’” Rini asked, looking at her sisters funny.

“It’s where our mother was born,” Doce replied, flippantly. “We’ve all been there at some point in time, even you, Rini. You were just too young to remember it. When Mother died, we didn’t get very many chances to return…”

“Ooooh…” Rini nodded, thinking this over. “So… where is it?”

Her sisters all smiled, Nita answered, “Back on Earth, in the old country.”

“It would be good to return and regroup,” Blaire said, looking directly at her frowning older sister. Doce looked even more upset at this prospect.

“You mean to go hide out until your next little ‘job’ comes up,” she snapped. “I really wish you would stop this foolishness. It can get you killed one of these days!” She looked at each of her younger sisters, seeing the set look on each of their faces, and her stomach sank. “Please… “ She shook her head, her eyes burning. “The war is over. Father is dead. Valdeon is dead. Even Mother and Kiell are dead.”

“Shut up!” Dev hissed.

“I will *not*!” Doce shouted, banging the table. “Don’t any of you realize what it does to me? Seeing you leave all the time, knowing you’re going out to kill someone, maybe more than one? Having you come back to me, battered and bruised? Don’t you *care*?”

“We care,” Blaire whispered, the only one willing to meet her sister’s angry, hurt gaze. “We care too much. That’s why we do this.”

“It’s okay, Doce,” Jack said, looking up. “You don’t have to stay with us anymore if that’s how you feel. Our very existence goes against your beliefs. I’m sorry.” She looked down, her eyes shut as if to hold back tears, but when she looked back up, two were tracing their way down her cheeks. “But, please understand… This is who we are. This is what we feel we *must* do…”

Doce shook her head, hot, angry tears wetting her cheeks. “You’re being fools if you pursue this! There’s *peace* now! Why can’t you *accept* that?”

“There’s never going to be true peace,” Nita bit off. “There’s always going to be someone around trying to overthrow theirself.”

“We’ll just be there to take them down a notch or two,” Kat added sourly.

“You’re fools, then,” Doce said brokenly. “If you really believe that than you’re all fools.” She stood up, unsettling the chair behind her and exited the apartment, three sisters staring after her.

“We should leave,” Jack announced, not looking up from the table.

“All those in favor of leaving,” Blaire asked, “say ‘aye’.”

“Aye,” six voices sang out.

“I’ll go get the Shooting Star ready,” Dev murmured, standing up and leaving as well.

“Well, I guess it’s time to pack,” Kat sighed. “And I was really starting to like that Koran-guy, too.”

 

 

“Garibaldi has his hands full,” Lady Une was saying into the vidphone that connected her to space. She sat behind the large old-wood desk, in the cushy commander’s chair, in Master Treize’s office. Neat stacks of paper littered the surface of the table, all demanding her attention, but for the moment only one sheet of paper captured and held her attention—a list of things to discuss with the Vice Minister.

“I can imagine,” Relena replied, looking over a list of her own—this one outlining key points she wanted to go over with the Colony representatives before she left L2 this afternoon. “It’s not easy being responsible for the well-being of the entire Earth let alone the colonies as well.”

“I still would have liked to have seen you in the position,” Une answered, folding her hands over her list and looking directly into the screen.

Relena sighed. “I know, you remind me of it every time we speak.” She smiled, but there was a tightness surrounding her eyes. “But we both know I can do the more good *here*, as Vice Minister, where I can still move around and get things done.”

“I know, I know…” Une replied, a tight frown marring her thin lips. “It’s just that, trying to communicate with the President and Minister of State is like pulling teeth.”

“What is it you need?” Relena turned aside to look in the mirror, smoothing her shorter honey wheat hair as it fell to her shoulders. She was still trying to decide if she liked her hair this short. True, it *did* make her look older… but she missed her longer lengths.

“Nothing yet,” Lady Une sighed. “Relena, have you thought about what measure might need to be taken to ensure this Peace lasts?”

The younger girl fell back into her seat, her breath leaving her with a rush. “I’ve thought about it, yes… the Peace is so… fragile, right now.” Relena shook her head with a sad arc. “Everyone’s still scared; afraid to trust in it…”

“There was a military uprising in Kovosan yesterday,” Une whispered, her hazel eyes swirling to a darker shade of red-brown.

Relena gasped. Hurt. Surprised. “Any… casualties…?” The other woman just nodded. “This isn’t good… How can we protect the people if people—“

“We need an agency that can work to protect the people,” Une told her. “Someone to help them.”

“I can’t support a military agency, Anne,” Relena sighed, shaking her head.

“Not military, no,” the older woman agreed, her voice sounding somewhat eager, excited. “But a force gathered to… to prevent more uprisings. Not to repress, but to protect. Like a world police force. Relena, there are so many ex- soldiers out there! Many of them feel lost, and some even betrayed. If we can harness them, turn their energies to *good* --“

“Do you hear yourself?” Relena cried. “’Harness them’? ‘Turn their energies’? These aren’t cattle you’re talking about here, Anne! These are people!”

“Yes! People who are angry! People who are restless! And if we’re not careful, these very same people who fought for Peace are the same who will destroy it!” Une shook her head. “Yes I realize what I’m saying! I’m saying that if we’re not careful, if we don’t take measures to protect ourselves, to prevent disruptions, then this peace is nothing solid that can last!”

“I’ve heard enough,” Relena nearly growled.

“At least think about what I’ve said,” Une pleaded. “If we don’t do something, then more innocent people will be hurt—“

“Enough!” Relena sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose aggressively. “I’ll be returning to Sank this afternoon for three days.” She looked up. “I understand what you’re trying to say, Anne, but I can’t think about that now. Perhaps, sometime this weekend…?”

Une nodded. “Very well. Have you looked into a personal guard yet?”

Again, the younger girl sighed. “I really don’t see what I need with—“

“You are a highly visible political figure, Relena! Without protection, anyone who holds a grudge against this new regime could target you as a political example!” Une shook her head. “This war really isn’t over yet, Relena… Not until everyone, every soldier, has embraced the peace we all tried so hard to achieve.”

Relena visibly slumped in her round chair, her head lolling back. “This has been more difficult than I ever imagined… When I took over Sank, it was only one little country… And then, for Romerfeller, I was just stepping into an empty figure head…”

“It’s going to be difficult—We’re rebuilding a government, and that’s going to take time…”

“And a force of protection…” Relena nodded. “How can we maintain that a force so similar to military won’t backfire against us? Be used to repress the people instead of protect them?”

“A Code of Conduct, a written agreement,” Une answered. “Something would have to be agreed upon. I haven’t thought it completely through yet,” she admitted. “I only know that *something* is needed…”

Nodding, Relena thought that over. Many of the representatives had asked her what was planned to help protect the people as well… and she knew that the other woman had a point. As much as she might hope that this Peace they were working to create was very real, it was still too flimsy to jeopardize by not protecting it… “Think this through in detail, then,” she said, sitting back up straight. “Make it fail-proof, and *then* present it to me.”

“Consider it done,” Une replied, relief flowing through her. She smiled towards the young woman. “See you this weekend, Relena. Don’t let all those stuffy old Reps get to you!”

“Lady Une!” Relena called before the woman could cut transmission. She smiled, a small, sad little curve of lips. “Thank you, for the cemetery.”

Une bowed her head and swallowed. “It was the least I could do for all the people who have given their lives for this peace, Miss Relena.”

“Something tells me it won’t be the last.”

 

 

She was trying not to seem too eager to leave, but the truth was, she *was*. She missed home—she missed her family, she missed Earth. Her escort was saying something about a birthday party having been planned for her and she *thought* she smiled and thanked him—but she couldn’t really be sure. The truth was, at the moment, she was just going through the motions. In 12 hours, she would be at Peacecraft Manor, and to her, that was all that mattered right now.

She turned before entering the shuttle and thanked the man who had been escorting her throughout the colony cluster for the past two weeks—she thought he blushed at her, but wasn’t too concerned. Someone bumped into her upon entering the shuttle, but she was really too much preoccupied with the prospects of getting home and finally being able to see her brother again to do more than offer an offhanded apology.

The teddy bear and card sitting in her seat was a surprise—shock enough to snap her out of her daze. She reached for the card, eyes running over the scratchy writing once, twice—She rushed to the window and called out *his* name, smiling like a goof when the techie she’d bumped into a moment before turned around and looked up at her.

Dark blue eyes. Messy dark hair.

Her heart raced in her chest; her stomach flip-flopped. She smiled and tore up the invitation.

“Ask me in person next time,” she told him through the reinforced plane of glass.

She thought she saw his lips twitch in amusement—as much of a smile as she could hope to get from the intense Japanese boy who inspired her so—before he turned and walked away. She couldn’t help but sigh and smile as she watched him go.

Everything was going to be all right. She could *feel* it. They *would* succeed.

 

End Part 4, Act 2


	3. Act 3

**Part One Act Three**

 

"Whadarya 'fraid of, huh? What?" he shouted, whirling within the confines of the four plastered walls. Silence answered him. "Afraid that the Perfect Soldier crap you play at will melt away? Afraid of actually becoming human?" He spat the last word out as though it was the vilest thing in the world. He whirled, his violet gaze landing upon the only other person in the room. "Afraid of having a heart? Of actually caring? WHAT? What the Fuck are you afraid of, Yuy?"

The tall, dark haired boy didn't move from his casual position, leaning up against one of the walls, his eyes shut against the sight of his companion. Someone who didn't know would think that the boy had fallen asleep on his feet. But he knew Heero was awake. He knew that Heero just stood there while he shouted like a raving lunatic for all the house to hear. It didn't faze him in the least... Nope. He was Calm. He was Cool. He was Collected... he was... the Perfect Soldier.

"God dammit, Heero!" Duo shouted, storming around the room, one fist raised, ready to pound on the other boy's chest. To try and force a reactio--

Two blue eyes snapped open, locking to his violet glare. A hand snapped up, seizing the fist--and pulling it forward. Arm followed fist, body followed arm, and Duo Maxwell found himself caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place. Only, the wall behind him was plaster and cement, not rock and the man in front of him, pushing him into that wall was---

Heero leaned in closer against Duo, pushing him harder against the wall. The braided one stared at him--violet eyes wide, gasping for breath.

"Heero--" he breathed.

Heero growled, pushing the boy's body harder against the wood as his mouth swept over his, kissing away what little breath Duo had managed to recover. The boy moaned, melting against him. After a minute, breathless as well, Heero pulled away--just a little. Duo's lips followed, nibbling.

"What. Are. You. A. Fraid. Of. Heero. Yuy?" he asked, his lips and teeth playing freely over the other's mouth.

"Duo..." he warned, the name rumbling up from his chest and rolling off his tongue like honey.

Duo paused in task, taking a moment to try and quell the shiver and moan that rose to answer. "Please. Tell me," he whispered against those lips that rarely smiled. "Don't block me out, Heero. Tell me what you're afraid of."

His head fell to Duo's neck, sucking on the sensitive skin there, and Duo shivered with delight as the sensations Heero wrought washed over him. He whimpered, tilting his head back, his eyes fluttering shut as Heero's lips played over his throat.

"Please?" he swallowed. "Tell me..."

"You..." Heero whispered against the warm flesh.

Violet eyes blinked open with shock. "ME?" he cried, pulling back the scant inches that were left between him, the wall, and the... hard place before him.

Heero let him pull back, not looking away when those violet-blue hazed eyes locked with his. But his body refused to release its pressure. Confusion clouded those eyes that stared into his. The questions where there--tons of them--he could see... but he prayed he wouldn't ask them...

"You're afraid of me?" Duo asked, his voice sounding small...weak... abused...and something else. Something akin to. awe? He continued to stare--his face a mask. No emotion. Silent.

"Why?" he breathed, his eyes taking in this face of the man before him. "Why, Heero? Why are you afraid of me?"

He continued to stare--his face a mask. No emotion. Silent. No emo--God, he felt sick to his stomach.

"Because you make me feel," he answered softly, eyes flittering away, breaking contact.

Duo stared incredulously at the man before him. If you had told him that Heero Yuy had just one the World's Best Personality Prize he couldn't have been thrown more off kilter. Licking his lips, trying to gain time, trying to gain his thoughts... He swallowed.

"How do I make you feel, Heero?" he asked, his voice a husk whisper.

Duo's warm breath slid over his face--inside he shivered, his eyes darting back up. There it was--in his eyes. That look he'd been seeing for over a week now. That look scared him more than a hundred Aries suits or even the Zero system could. And it was looking directly at him.

They stayed for another minute in silence, either boy refusing to yield.

He saw it--in his eyes. That look he'd been seeing for over a week now. It was a look that scared the bejesus out of him--especially because it was looking right at him. Fear. He couldn't stand it. Especially when it was coming from Heero.

Heero licked his lips again, unsure of what to do, how to tell him what he felt he needed to tell him...and smiled when he saw those violet-blue eyes dart down to his lips. He could do this. Heck! If he could save the world, then surely he could--

"Should I tell you how you make me feel?" Duo asked somewhat playfully. Those blue eyes darted back up to his--and there it was again... that fear... Duo refused to allow it to deter him. He leaned forward into the hard mass that was Heero Yuy's body, smiling.

"Duo..." Heero hissed warningly. 'Don't do this,' he thought. 'Don't press matters that are better left--' The other boy pressed closer.

"You make me feel good, Heero," Duo breathed, his face millimeters away, his lips-- his breath-- caressing his own lips. He leaned forward to take those lips, but Duo brushed past his lips and over his cheek, and whispered in his ear: "You make me feel real good, Heero. Good about myself. Good about us. About what we're doing..."

His lips brushed against that sensitive spot just below the ear, and Duo smiled when he felt Heero shiver. "You make me feel good, Heero. Every time you look at me... Every time you touch me... Every time you kiss me... Every time you're inside of me... Every time I'm inside of you.You make me feel good."

He groaned, his lips falling to Duo's neck, taking in the deep aroma that he knew only as Duo. It was intoxicating. It was arousing. It was--

"How do I make you feel, Heero?" the playful voice whispered once more in his ear.

He was breathing hard, he knew. And his heart rate accelerated. "You... You make me feel good, too, Duo," he said softly. Duo smiled. 'Mission 1: Accomplished' he thought with a grin. "Good," he said aloud. He looked up and his grin increased--if that is at all possible. "You know... there's a bed right over there..." he said, wiggling... in just the... right... way...

"Hn," replied, thrusting him back against the wall. The braided boy grunted--still grinning. "Oh, man! We're not going to make it to the bed, are we?" Another thrust had him groaning as lips and teeth began to suck at his neck. He whimpered--almost nearly a complete puddle of mush--his head lolling back as his eyes hooded near-shut. "I--I want you--want you to know--" he licked his lips again "to know that--that this wont stop," he breathed.

"This" might not stop, but Heero did. He pulled back--just barely--and stared at Duo. Breathless. Flushed. Moist lips. Hooded eyes. And that same damn look from before. His own eyes narrowed, he knew. "What wont?" he asked finally.

"This feeling," Duo answered softly, rotating his hips against Heero's. "You making me feel good... because... " He licked his lips and debated about going through with this.

Duo's lips drew his gaze like a magnet. He wanted to kiss those lips--to suck on them, nibble on them... to stop whatever words that might try to pass through them... But, instead, he lifted a hand up to those lips and brushed the sweet moisture from the lower one with the callused pad of his thumb. He felt the same crunch to his stomach as he had before, but this time, he was determined to get this over with. Perhaps it would be better this way--

"Why?" he whispered hoarsely. Those eyes were locked to his... it was a moment of truth for both of them... either they went forward from here... or they... "Why wont these feelings go away, Duo?"

Duo licked his lips again--the wetness sliding over Heero's thumb and tasting him... delicious... a moment of truth, oh Duo, old buddy... this is it... you're either gonna tell him now or--

"Because it's love," he rasped, his eyes never wavering from Heero's. "You make me feel loved."

Heero waited. He waited for---for---for he didn't know what. The world to end, maybe?

Maybe that's way--when it didn't--the corners of his mouth slowly turned up in a small smile. He leaned forward, brushing his lips to Duo's. "You make me feel loved, too," he whispered before taking Duo's mouth in a kiss hot enough to burn the sun. Well, enough to make Duo whimper, as his knees turned to mush. Heero broke away suddenly--his lips and teeth trailing a path over his chin and down his throat as his hands flew over the fastenings of Duo's shirt and pants.

"Uh, Hee--Heero?" he gasped, eyes hooded as his body gushed with feeling.

"Hn?"

"Could we..." he licked his lips again. "Could we really try and make it to that bed?" he asked, noticing his clothes were rapidly disappearing--not that he minded too much. "I still have rug burns from laa--aah!"

His startled cry as his lover--no, his mind reminded him, his love--as his love picked him up from around the waist and carried him over to the bed was cut off by Heero's lips--before he was drop, unceremoniously, onto said bed.

"Oww! Hey!" Duo cried, looking up to see Heero shucking his own clothes. "Need a hand?" he grinned, pulling... his love... down to the mattress.

 

 

That was almost four months ago. It had taken them another three weeks before either one of them had strung those three magical words together, and even to this day, 'I love you' coming from the other's mouth was enough to send a fountain of raw emotion originating from their stomachs and spilling outwards. "Love-with a good helping of lust on the side," Duo had explained it once.

Still, their relationship wasn't. perfect. Both boys were unsure of themselves but they wanted this. *thing* between them. So they worked at it. They didn't start out holding hands as they walked down the street. No, one day Duo had grabbed hold of Heero's hand to drag the other boy to a window showcase, to show him something he thought was "really cool". Heero had just never let go of the braided boy's hand. Duo didn't complain.

They weren't overly affectionate around others unlike the stereotypical "love-struck teenaged couples". And, indeed, out and about the city, many people did wonder if the two were "just friends" or "really! I'm telling you, they're a couple!" The fact that the braided boy flirted with everything and anything-sex not a determinant-kept the gossipers' tongues wagging. But Duo was a favorite among his fellow colonists and, well, if Heero wasn't so much of a conversationalist, he was Duo's friend and companion and welcome wherever the braided-wonder went.

Heero spent a majority of his time with Duo. In fact, there was rarely a time when the two couldn't be found together. Hilde once teased them that if one had to go to the bathroom, the other was sure to follow. The fact that the two boys turned red at that statement was cause for take-out dinner due to a laughing girl, rolling around the floor-dinner had been left to burn. Heero and Duo went to school together, they studied together, they went to movies and concerts and clubs and bars together, they worked at the garage together-even though Heero didn't know the first thing about striping down salvaged materials and Duo spent more time working and talking while Heero watched and listened.

What the silent boy lacked in workability, however, he made up for in finances. When Duo started complaining about some overdrawn drafts coming up with the company, Heero had only asked how much was needed. The next day, the exact amount was waiting with Hilde at the garage. Duo had ranted at first that he didn't need any charity to keep his business going and that, who did "Mr. Windam" think he was? And, how did he know how much money they were shy?

Heero quietly asked him if that mattered.which shut the braided boy up. Especially about money matters whenever Heero was near. Hilde was not quite so tight lipped, however, and whenever funds dipped shy in those first two months after taking over the garage, somehow "Mr. Windam" knew when and where money was needed-and he always provided.

That wasn't too often, though. In fact, the salvage company was thriving after only a month or two of rough times. Duo's previous connections with the salvagers got him good deals on incoming shipments, and Hilde's reputation in the community brought in needy costumers. Still, something was missing.

Sitting out at one of the local playgrounds, late one night, laying back against the Astroturf, staring up at the fake night sky, arms pillowed behind his head, knees bent and up, Duo sighed. "Sometimes, I just wish there was more I could do, you know?"

Heero, ever one of little words, nodded and gave a little grunt of acknowledgement.

They'd come to this park many times at night to just sit and stare up at the fake sky with its pinpricks of light to stimulate stars, talking. Their talks centered around just about anything. Their pasts-growing up on the streets with a plague and civil war; growing up with a group of assassins; death; life; people they remembered and respected, who died, fallen in a battle they didn't start; the scientists; the gundams; the other pilots; how they first met; whether peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches were better with grape jelly or strawberry; what the colonists were thinking when they first decided to go live out in space; what was *with* Relena and *pink* and did they think she would ever grow out of it.

Everything and anything. it was one of the few times Duo could actually get Heero to talk-and keep talking-without feeling like he was pulling teeth. They learned a lot about each other in those quiet moments of reflection, and what they learned made them respect and love the other all the more. Sometimes one would cry; the other never said anything about it, just squeezed his hand and maybe drop a kiss on the white knuckles. Many times they revisited old subjects, always with an air of "I wish I could."

"It's not right, kids living on the streets, fighting for food and life and a scrap of clothing to wear, to keep warm. I wish I could just do something more for them."

"Like what?" Heero asked, studying the fiber optical lights above them.

"I don't know." The braided boy sighed and rolled onto his stomach, propping his chin up on one arm and playing with the grass. "Give them a home. give them food. clothing. a purpose in life. Hope."

Heero rolled around until he could pillow his head against Duo's back-a perfect view of the slides between his knees. "Wanna try it on the slide again?"

Duo twisted beneath him, wiggling until he was on his back again, Heero's head resting against his stomach now. "You have *got* to be kidding me, right?" No comment. "After the last time.?"

Heero didn't answer, well aware of what happened last time, and after a moment, returned to the original subject. "Why couldn't you build them a home?" he asked.

"That stuff all takes money, Heero," Duo sighed again. "You know that. And these kids don't have any money-that's what's got them stuck there in the first place."

"You do."

"What?"

"You have money." Heero continued to stare at the slide.

"Maybe, but not enough to put together something along the scales of what those kids need," Duo replied, playing with Heero's hair. "You've seen the place, Heero. You've seen them. Many of them won't want to leave the colony, and those that do probably wont leave without the others."

"So, build them a home here." Heero *had* seen what it was like. He'd followed Duo one day when the braided pilot had been taking some things down to Miramar. Duo said he wanted to go alone, but Heero wanted to know, so he 'd waiting a few minutes, and then followed him. What he'd seen had shocked and saddened him. All too clearly, all around him, were the ravages of war. 'This is what war does to people,' he thought, looking at the decaying city. He'd wanted to cry.

"That would take a lot of work-even more money than I have," Duo answered sourly.

Heero just shook his head. "You have money. We all do." This time, he sighed. "Enough credits to build your own colony if that's what you wanted."

"What are you talking about, Heero?" Duo asked, looking up over at him. Two violet eyes narrowed. "Just how did I come into this money.?"

Another shrug. "Courtesy of OZ and Romafeller."

This time Duo sat all the way up, forcing Heero to sit up as well. "And when were you going to tell me?"

"When you needed it." Heero looked over his shoulder again. "Are you sure you don't want to try it on the slide again?"

 

 

No one asked her if she minded two homosexual males living under her roof. No one asked her what she thought of the matter. No one even stopped to consider that, until that night a month and a half ago, when she'd walked into her kitchen, returning home late from a friend's house, and actually *saw*--with her own two eyes-one Duo Maxwell pressed up against one Heero Yuy's back, nibbling and kissing while the other attempted to make dinner, she hadn't even *considered* the idea that there was something between the two boys other than the shared experiences of war, being gundam pilots, being orphans, being the same age, attending the same classes, working at the garage, and overall friendship-ness.

Of course, looking back over the last several months, it was easy to pick out the signs that the two were a couple-Duo's overly-friendliness, Heero's possibly-sexual-undertoned comments. Little things that she just hadn't put together to prepare herself for the picture she'd discovered that night.

She must have made a sound because both teens turned around and saw her-Duo pulling away from Heero and smiling at her, throwing out one of his witty little greetings, Heero nodded at her once before turning back to his most recent culinary concoction. That's when she knew this wasn't something that just happened, that this-whatever *this* was-had been going on for quite sometime, in her house, in her home, under her roof, with her completely clueless.

She swallowed hard, gave some excuse about having eaten over at her friend's house and how tired and dirty she was. and then she'd escaped. She escaped to her bedroom and locked herself in, gasping and blinking hard. She tore out of her clothes and turned the water on hot as it could run, and just sat under the burning pelting spray until she finally stopped crying, too tired to cry anymore.

She had no right to be angry at him. None. She had no claim on him. It was her who said 'no strings', not him. In fact, one could technically say she cohorced him into it. He hadn't wanted to at first-had even admitted that he liked someone else. No, loved, not liked. And she'd still.

She'd allowed herself to have feelings for him. Even after telling herself that they wouldn't work as a couple. That they weren't compatible like that. That, all she wanted from him was friendship and one night of sex.

And that's exactly what she got.

His friendship and one night of sex. He'd never promised more, but she'd.

Hilde shook her head and pushed off her bed. She *had* to stop thinking about this. It was useless, it was silly, it was pathetic and draining, and it wasn't getting her anywhere.

She didn't want to believe it at first. She didn't want to believe it at all-maybe that's why it took such a concrete visual to make it even become a possibility in her mind. She'd spent that first week trying to convince herself that it was Duo teasing Heero and really didn't mean anything. After all, Duo *was* overly affectionate and teasing with people.

Granted, the braided pilot didn't go around nibbling on people's necks-he hadn't even done that to *her*--but. that didn't mean anything, right?

He never went anywhere with anyone if Heero wasn't there. He didn't date, though he always had someplace fun to go to every night. He didn't do anything that Heero wasn't a part of. It was like they were glued at the hip. or hips as the case may be.

Hilde flushed. It wasn't long before she was caught up in the taboo and *different ness* of it all. Did they. do it? She wondered. Did they like it? Who did what? They didn't do it in *her* house, did they?

The questions flooded her every waking second and she couldn't look at either one of them without thinking about how Duo looked when she and he had done it. Did he look the same with Heero?

Neither one actually said or did anything that would suggest they were having sex, but, that didn't stop Hilde from thinking about it. Thinking about it more than she probably should.

She heard Duo's voice before she saw him and looked up at the back door expectantly. She didn't have long to wait. Duo, Heero right behind him, coming in out of the dark, flushed with excitement and talking a mile-a-minute, entered the kitchen.

"No, I think that's a *great* idea! We could probably get some of the kids to help too, you know? Make it really *theirs*. Of course there's all the legalities, but I-"

"There's some stew on the stove" she announced, sitting at the kitchen table with a bowl of stew in front of her.

The braided-teen finally took notice of her. "OH! Hey, Hilde! Guess what! Heero and I had the greatest idea and-"

"I suggest you eat before it gets too cold," she said, blowing on her steaming spoonful. She needn't have said anything, though. Heero had already retrieved two bowls and was ladling them both full of the thick stew. Duo bypassed him on his way for spoons, napkins and something to drink. They arrived at the table at the same time. Perfectly coordinated. Hilde felt like crying again.

"We're gonna go into Miramar tomorrow and find a building that's not too destroyed and fix it up for an orphanage!" Duo announced, yelping when he scalded his tongue on the hot stew. "Give some of those kids a real place to live and all."

"That's great, Duo," she said, her voice belaying any greatness, "But where do you expect to get the money for something like that?"

"Oh, we've already got it, that's not a problem," Duo replied, grinning. "The problem is gonna be not getting shot at or run out of the place before we finish!"

He winked at her. It was too much. Pushing up from the table, setting her half-eaten dinner in the sink, she excused herself and left the house. Maybe Kimmy or Lisa would be home.

 

 

Heero viewed the task of constructing an orphanage as a mission to be carried out. First, they would need information. Heero and Duo retired to the basement with laptop and halo-projector.

"This colony has never officially had an orphanage before," Heero told him, skimming through the records. "The one you stayed at, with the church, was never recognized by the government. There are a few regulations, but we should be able to meet them."

"What about the property?" Duo asked. "Do we even know who owns-"

"When the city went bankrupt, the colonial government retracted any property agreements," Heero answered. He swiveled in his chair and looked over at him. "Because the city of Miramar is so poor, no one has been willing to buy anything in that sector. Property is cheap."

Violet eyes narrowed. "How cheap?"

Heero shrugged. "Cheap enough that you could probably buy the whole city if you wanted to." He shrugged again, turning back to his computer. "Without even putting a dent in your accounts."

"Can I really do that?"

"What? Buy a city?"

"Yeah."

"If you wanted to."

They stayed up late, pouring over the schematics of the city, reading over statistics and tossing about probable ways to get the city back on its economical feet. The next morning they were hitting the streets of the city, Duo running off visions of grandeur, Heero making a mental list.

"And that corner right there would be really great for an ice cream pallor or an arcade, don't cha think?" the braided boy was saying. "And over there, the old movie theater. Wonder what it would take to get that back up and running? Hmmm. right up there, I think, is where that old dance studio was, if I remember right-"

They traveled the entire city, from center to the surrounding suburbs. People stopped and stared, but no one approached them. It was getting late, the colony's day-cycle leading into night, before children began straggling into sight. Heero studied each of the wearied, worried, frightened faces. Large, hungry eyes, staring out of tired, dirty faces. Too proud to beg for help.

"I was thinking," Heero announced as they began making their way back to the Pembroke District and home.

Duo snapped out of his daydreaming musings and looked over his serious expression. Heero hadn't said too much all day, but, then, that wasn't very surprising. "Whadda'bout?"

They continued walking, their pace uninterrupted for several yards, before Heero answered. "Moving into the city once we get started."

"You mean, leave Hilde's place?" Duo's forehead wrinkled with thought. He supposed they probably *should* stop hinging off of the girl, but he kinda really hated the idea of leaving her all by herself again.

"It was just a thought," Heero replied, letting the matter drop.

 

 

"Do you think I'm being silly?" the dark-haired girl hiccupped.

"Yes," her friend replied, reaching over for another roll of sushi. "But I don't think there's any help for it." She popped the rice and crabmeat combo in her mouth and hummed her appreciation. "I don't know which I like better-Gerdi's enchiladas or his sushi!"

Hilde fell back against the bed, shaking her head with a small, sad smile. "I can't believe you went and got married."

"Believe it!" Kimmy told her. "I told you the minute I found a man who liked to cook, clean, and was great in bed I was going to marry him!"

"Unbelievable," the dark-haired girl mumbled, rolling over onto her stomach. She fiddled with a loose string on the quilt, lips turned in a pout.

"Hilde, you know what your problem is?"

"What?" she grumbled, the word muffled by her arm.

"You *want* to be in love, and you want to be married and do all that domesticated stuff and you don't care who it's with," the brown haired girl replied.

Hilde sat up, outraged, but her friend was going on.

"You're more upset that he has somebody and you don't, than the fact that he has somebody and it's not *you*," Kimmy continued, reaching for another roll. "What you need is to get your ass out to the clubs and find a guy to bring home."

"Fat friend you are!" she shouted, angry and hurt and filled with shame because her friend's words rung too true in her own ears. "Here I come, looking for some solace, and what do I get? Accusations! I don't need this! Not right now I don't!"

She pushed off the bed and was storming off to the door, Kimmy's words following.

It wasn't true. No, it wasn't. She wasn't jealous over someone else's happiness. Especially not Duo's. Hell's fires *knew* he deserved a bit of happiness after all the junk he went through in his past. Hell! She was happy for him that he'd found someone to be happy with!

She just wished it could have been her.

 

 

Heero Yuy was not in L2.

It wasn't *that* unusual. The stoic pilot had often left the colony from time-to-time in the last six months, always for a day or two. But this time he'd informed his violet-eyed, braided lover that he would be gone for a week, maybe longer. And he didn't tell Duo where he was going or why.

Duo didn't want to pry-Heero had a lot of secrets, and just because he'd been privy to many of them, didn't mean the other boy was willing or ready to share *all* his secrets. Duo had a few of his own that he hadn't wanted to share with his lover just yet.

Still. The braided-boy's curiosity was grandiose, and he couldn't help but feel a little snubbed that Heero hadn't bothered to tell him anything more than he needed to take care of something and he'd been in touch. And then he'd left.

His gundam was still here-Duo had checked-which meant, he had no way of contacting the other pilot until Heero contacted him first.

A part of him felt angry-angry with Heero for leaving just when Duo's dreams and plans for rebuilding his hometown were so close to becoming a reality. Another part of him argued that Heero had his reasons and they were probably really good reasons. So Duo Maxwell spent his days going to summer classes and working at the garage, and he spent his nights talking to the people of Charity Row and dreaming of Heero.

Duo waited six days without a phone call before he admitted to himself that he was worried.

 

 

 

 

**In the Pale Moonlight by Andrea Readwolf**

**Part Two Act Three**

 

“You have *got* to stop this.”

No reply.

“You’re killing yourself!”

Still no response.

“Please, Quatre! We’re worried about you!”

The blond boy sighed and continued flipping stations on the vidscreen before him. There was nothing good on. There never was. It didn’t matter what time of day or night it was. Nothing interested him anymore.

He looked like a different person from the young, smiling, lively boy Farrah and her sisters had met only two months ago. A stranger to them, more so than the boy they’d fallen in love with from the first—a listless, sullen stranger who wouldn’t leave the house or eat or smile or laugh or talk to anyone. They all agreed something was wrong, and everyone had a different suggestion to the cause and cure.

“Quatre,” she tried again, her voice going soft and sweet, laced with the tenderness of a sister. “Please, you have to stop this…”

“Farrah, I appreciate your concern—“ Which was a lie. His sisters’ “concern” was becoming evermore annoying. “—but I’m fine, really.”

“That’s a lie, Quatre Winner!” his youngest sister accused him angrily. “You are *not* ‘fine’! Have you looked at yourself recently? Oh, Quatre!” And her voice was soft and sweet again. “You look *terrible*! Nothing like the sweet, smiling boy I met two months ago. *Please*!”

No answer. The vidscreen flickered into a new connection.

“Quatre, please,” his sister was trying again. “Next week is your sixteenth birthday,” she announced.

As if he was so feeble minded that he’d forgotten when his own birthday was. Was it already March?

“Our sisters and I would like to celebrate it with you,” she continued, sitting down on the couch next to his legs. “If you’ll let us, that is…”

“Sure,” he nodded, flipping the station. “If you want to, that’s fine.”

“Quatre…” A hand brushed his leg, snatching his attention away from the screen. Farrah was looking at him with large, sorrowful blue eyes. He stared back. “Please, find that boy and bring him back to us? We miss him very much, and he’s needed.”

She squeezed his thigh and then pushed up, leaving him alone with the tears that threatened to swallow him whole. His sister had meant him, he knew…

But his heart thought of another.

 

 

“Good show, Catherine, Trowa!” the ringmaster called to them as they headed for their trailer.

“I think Trowa’s getting better at being a target, don’t you?” the red-haired girl teased, sending a wink towards the man who was like a father to her. “It must be all this muscle he’s building up. What do you think?”

“I think he’s finally developed a stomach tough enough to deal with your cooking!” the older man teased, laughing and walking away before either of the two could get a word out.

Catherine growled and stomped her foot. “My cooking is *not* bad!” she shouted, turning to the boy who stood, waiting patiently, holding the door to their trailer open for her. “Is my cooking really that bad?” she asked, a pitiful, congealing tone lacing her voice.

“It’s edible,” the boy replied and nothing more.

Catherine sighed and threw her hands up over her head. “No one ever likes my cooking!” she complained. “But do you see *them* offering to cook? No!”

Trowa followed her into the trailer, closing the door behind them, and then followed her into the rear of the mobile home. It was modest sized, big enough for the both of them, fitting them comfortably. Catherine moved into the bedroom in the back—her room, Trowa stopped at the trunk outside the bedroom— his closet.

By the time Catherine had finished scrubbing the make-up off her face and washing the hairspray from her red curls, Trowa was out of his clown suit— carefully folded and put away for tomorrow’s show—and was in the kitchen, preparing a simple dinner.

“Trowa, you didn’t have to cook, you know I’ll do that!” Catherine said, scrubbing a towel over her wet curls. He didn’t reply—she didn’t really expect him to. “Here, let me do that,” she offered, letting the towel drop around her shoulders. “You can go feed the lions.”

“They’ve already been feed,” the boy answered, turning the meat patty over to fry on the other side.

“Oh, well, um…” She fell into one of the chairs and just watched as he finished cooking the hamburgers. “Trowa,” she asked when he sat down next to her. “Are you happy here?”

He was quiet. Neither one touched their burgers. “Do you want me to leave?” he asked after another minute of silence.

“No!” she cried a little too forcefully. She scrunched up her eyes and shook her head, sighing. “Trowa, I just—I just want you to be happy, and I’m—I’m wondering if we’re making you happy or not. It’s so hard to tell; you never laugh or smile, and yet, you’ve continued to come back to us and…”

Catherine sighed again and looked at him, reaching out to touch his shoulder. “Trowa, I just want you to be happy.”

He didn’t look at her, didn’t acknowledge her touch, didn’t do anything but sit there, staring down at his plate.

She leaned back into her own seat, withdrawing her hand with a sigh.

“I’m happy here,” he answered, his voice dead, shocking her with any response at all. And then he picked up his fork and stabbed the dead chunk meat.

 

 

He sat on the edge of his bed, staring into one of the mirrors, staring at the reflection of the boy he saw there. ‘Can that boy really be me?’ he wondered. ‘He looks sad.’

“I *am* sad.”

Listless blue eyes fell shut, blocking out the image of the boy. Behind his closed eyelids, the image replaced itself with that of another boy—taller, narrower in stature. The soft forelock of cinnamon hair falling forward, hiding eyes the shade of forest. Skin that was both soft, yet hard—calloused, chapped, weatherworn, stretched over muscle and bone. The smooth touch of worn denim and cotton. The heady scent of sawdust and musk—

Quatre’s distressed whimper drowned in the feathery-cushion of his pillow, his senses reeling from the phantoms of memories. His body could still feel the other boy, around him, under him, rising to meet his every thrust. His lips could taste the nectar of the other boy’s lips, his skin, his essence, warm, salty. The best thing he’d ever tasted.

“Love.”

The word fell from his lips, a mixture of blessing and curse. He had loved the other boy—loved him to an impossible point of description.

But Trowa didn’t love him back.

“Let’s not try to make anything more of it than what it was: sex. Companionship during stressful times,” Trowa’s words revisited him.

Those words had haunted him for the last two months.

Quatre looked up at the canopy, studying its deep, rich colors, looking for guidance.

“You’re killing yourself, Quatre!” his sister had told him.

Was it true? He tried to remember when was the last time he’d eaten something— really *eaten*. He couldn’t. He couldn’t even remember what was served for dinner last night. And when was the last time he left the house? Not since after that first week. He’d tried to go to the office a couple times… but they were failed attempts, and eventually he gave up trying.

Was his sister right? *Was* he killing himself?

“You look *terrible*! Nothing like the sweet, smiling boy I met two months ago. *Please*! Find that boy and bring him back to us? We miss him very much, and he’s needed.”

Absently, he wondered where that boy had gone to, too.

 

 

He didn’t watch the news. He was afraid to. Afraid he’d see the other boy; afraid he wouldn’t. Afraid if he did the other boy would look terrible and he’d know he’d made a mistake in leaving; afraid the other boy would look better than ever and he’d know he’d been right… and that would be worse, wouldn’t it?

His sister, however, was an avid news-watcher. He made sure he was away when the vidscreen was on. Tonight, as with many nights before, he’d built up a small campfire set a little ways away from the others, and sat, staring into its flames. Above him, the night sky was filled with the light of the full moon, shining brightly over the treetops.

Absently, he thought of another night, almost a year ago, that he had sat at a similar fire, under a similar moon, after the failure of New Edwards. He had followed Wufei’s gundam that day, angry and upset and shamed at being used like they had been. He’d left Quatre with the others and flew after Wufei; flew after the ones who had tricked them.

He thought about what had happened later that night, when he had brought the defeated and broken Asian boy home to the circus with him. Catherine had been eager to help, and she didn’t ask many questions—though he knew she wanted to. He supposed he was lucky for that fact. Even a month later, when he brought another boy home—Heero, critically wounded after his attempted self-destruction— she hadn’t forced any questions from him.

He’d been thankful. He *was* thankful. She had been kind to him, from the very first she had taken him under her wing and treated him like the brother she claimed him to be. It was… an interesting experience. He remembered, Catherine had liked Wufei and Heero when he brought them home with him. And Heero’s willingness to stand for her target practice had won her admiration of the Japanese youth.

He remembered when Duo and Quatre had visited the circus, when they were back in the colonies. She had shielded him like a lioness protecting her cub. He found it somewhat amusing that the two most likable of the five gundam pilots— the two who were the most cheerful and friendly—were the two Catherine had felt the most offensive towards.

Of course, at the time he was suffering from amnesia, so, perhaps she would have acted the same towards Wufei or Heero if it had been them who had found him. Trowa thought so. For some reason—even after knowing he was a known terrorist, a gundam pilot—the strange, fiery girl was protective of him. Him. A boy of fifteen? Sixteen?—he didn’t even know his own age—who had been killing other people and defending himself since he was a babe.

It felt good, he concluded, staring at the dying embers while all around him, a chorus of crickets and owls rose out from the darkness.

 

 

He smiled brightly at them all as they rushed around him, enveloping him in their attention. He tried to push away the wave of fatigue that lapped at his being, tried to stay attentive, listening as all the girls went on about how happy they were to see him looking more like himself again. He just smiled and nodded and told them he hadn’t been feeling very well lately, but he was glad they could make it today.

He pulled up all his training from *years* as his father’s son, being groomed as the Winner heir. Smiling, looking attentive, open face, closed eyes, nod of the head, a swivel to scan over the faces of the rest of his guests before returning to the one at his side. One arm at the small of his back, the other out in front of him, holding out his glass of whatever it was they were serving, sipping from the flute occasionally. All an act he had learned only all too well. An act he had despised for its fakeness—until recently. Until he’d discovered he could hide behind the act and his sisters would be satisfied that their brother was “back”.

And then there was a tug at the sleeve of his blazer, and the tug became more forceful before he was being pulled away. Someone murmured an ‘excuse us,’ and then he was dragged into another room. With a little force he was manhandled into a turn until he was facing his kidnapper.

“Hello, Farrah,” he said calmly, smoothing out the wrinkles of his blue blazer. “How are you this day?”

“Cut the crap, Quatre,” the young woman snapped, pinching his chin and forcing him to look at her. She squinted into his eyes, turning his face this way and that, and then she sighed disgustedly, dropping her hand away.

He took the moment to study her. As with all his sisters, her hair was a color of blonde—not as light as his own, darker. The medium-length strands were pulled away from her face, but left loose to curl behind her shoulders. The dusky-blue teacup blouse scooped over both shoulders with a dip of bare skin in the back and tucked in neatly to a pair of black buckled slacks. The shoes, comfortable pumps. Her jewelry was neither flashy nor overdone—a simple gold chain with a diamond heart pendent and two diamond-drop gold earrings. As with all his sisters, she looked fashionable and yet conservative.

Farrah sighed. “Well, at least you went to the spa like I told you to.” She turned his face again. “Got some color back into you. Have you been eating?” She pinched his arms and torso and would have gone farther had his not pushed her hands away and moved back.

She sighed again. “Listen, Quatre, Sadira was thinking of setting you up on a couple of dates, getting you back out in the commercial world—you remember what that’s like, right? The Real World? The one outside those doors there?” She stabbed a finger towards the French doors she’d just dragged him through.

“You should listen to her, you know,” Farrah continued, walking over to a small bar and pouring herself a drink. “She’s an image consultant, and right now your image is a little blackened.” She poured another drink and shoved it into Quatre’s hands.

“WEI isn’t a bad engine, you know,” she was saying, falling into one of the plush lounge chairs in the room and looking up at him. “It was built to last, but it can’t keep running without a head.” She paused, letting that sink in, before she added. “And guess who that head is right now?”

“I never asked to be,” the blond boy replied, slumping down into a matching white-plush chair.

“You think that matters any?” Her face looked hurt and swollen with sympathy. “Oh, Quatre, honey, *none* of us wanted to get stuck with that monster!” She shook her head. “And we didn’t, you *did*.” She reached over and set her tumbler on the glass tabletop. “Quatre, we’re here for you, if you need us. But you have to say something, we can’t help us unless you tell us what you need.”

‘I need Trowa,’ he thought, looking out at the sea of smiling Winners outside.

 

 

‘Quatre…’ The tall, green-eyed boy stood transfixed, staring at the screen in front of him, the grocer’s bag slack in his hands. Before him, a wall of vidscreens mocked him, all displaying the face of the boy he couldn’t seem to forget, no matter how hard he tried. From somewhere behind the display case window, sound reached out to tease his hearing.

::::Multi-millionaire heir, Quatre Raberba Winner has returned to the business world after a two month sabbatical following the end of the War. Quatre Winner is the son of…::::

::::Boy billionaire, Quatre Winner, has finally come out in public as CEO of Winner Enterprises Incorporated. Today at a news release, the young heir announced his plans for the future of WEI…::::

:::: “I intend to do everything within my power to help the colonies and Earth rebuild and—”::::

:::: “Yes, I plan to do anything possible to help Vice Minister Darlian in her mission to build a better government for all. Indeed, she has my full support and cooperation—”::::

His prince’s image flashed before him in a dozen pictures—smiling, nodding, brushing away a skewed bang. It was his Quatre, but it wasn’t. Something was different, off, wrong about the whole picture before him. He studied the moving images, the eyes of a hungry man feasting at a banquet, but before he could determine what it was that *wasn’t* *quite* *right* about the images, his attention was drawn away.

“Hey, Trowa!” Catherine called sing-songingly. She smiled up at the boy and waved a hand in front of his face. “You in there? Come on, you’re going to let the ice cream melt if you stay out here!”

She turned, tugging at his arm when she caught sight of what he was staring at. Her smiling face puzzled into a frown as she tried to place why the face seemed familiar. “Isn’t that one of your pilot friends…?”

Abruptly, the boy turned away, starting down the way they’d come.

“Trowa!” Catherine called after him, racing to catch up with him. “Trowa! What’s wrong?”

Silence answered her and she mewed, poking him in the ribs at his side. “I *asked* you a question!”

“Nothing,” was the curt reply.

“Un huh,” Catherine answered, completely unconvinced. “Fine! Fine! I see how it is! You feel you can’t talk to me, I understand! I mean, hey! It’s not like I’m your mother or anything and I *certainly* can’t *force* you to tell me anything you don’t want to and hey! Why should I even care, right? You’re a—“

Trowa turned on her without warning, catching her by her arms and stopping their forward progress. He offered a small, shy smile before leaning over and pressing a light kiss to her cheek.

“Thank you, Cathy,” was all he said before letting go, turning, and continuing back down the street towards home.

Catherine stared after him in disbelief, a hand raised to the cheek he’d touched. “Well I’ll be damned,” she whispered before racing after him again to catch up, smiling happily.

 

 

He was angry. No, livid. Of course, no one on the outside knew this. No one knew that behind the calm, cool, collected, smiling exterior they all saw he was raging. And he had no outlet for his rage. It had been like this for the last two months. So he turned his attentions over to WEI, pouring all his energies, all his emotions into the company his father left him—tearing the company apart, putting it back together, building it up greater than ever. Adding, taking over, compiling, buying out, more, more, more… And his plans for the future called for more of the same.

Late nights at the office didn’t bother him—there was little to go home for. But his life wasn’t all office work. No, that would have been too easy, now wouldn’t it? Even now, Quatre Winner was dressing for another party to benefit… Well, he wasn’t sure what tonight’s affair was in honor of. He’d have to ask Sadira before he left.

Quatre sighed, pausing in tying off his cravat to stare at his reflection in the mirror.

Following Sadira and his other sisters’ advice he’d had his wardrobe overhauled— any pairs of jeans, shorts, tank tops, or other “unsuitable” apparel had been removed from his closet, replaced with slacks, pants, and trousers, dress shirts and sporting three button “relax” shirts. They had gone so far as to steal away his boxer shorts, leaving briefs in their place. Currently he was dressed in another one of their chosen suits—though, he had to admit, he *did* look good. The black suit was offset by the royal blue, diamond-patterned vest into which a grey-blue cravat was stuffed. The colors seemed to heighten the golden tones of his face and hair and accent the color of his eyes, bringing them out with an uncanniness.

If he allowed himself to dwell on it, he knew he would pout and throw a tantrum. After all, was it fair that everything he’d worked so hard to *change* from the mold his father had created was suddenly torn from him? Everything that he’d defined for himself in the past year was suddenly thrown out the window as if it was of no consequence? ‘Yes, dear, you fought in a war. Wasn’t it terrible? But now you’re home and safe and you don’t have to pretend anymore.’

“Bullshit,” the blond teen grumbled, running a hand through his hair. He let out a short breath and shook his head. Even his hairstyle and appearance had been deemed lacking. As a result, he was chauffeured to a spa where he was preened and primed for the media cameras and another week of work. His hair was shaped and styled, streaked with near-white highlights; his nails trimmed neatly, buffed and shined; his body wrapped in some weird chemical treatment before being baked in an artificial tanning booth and then smoothed with softening, scented oils. It wasn’t *so* *so* bad… Not really. After all, he’d participated in the ritual for years with his father.

“It is important to *always* look your best, Quatre.”

He used to actually enjoy it. Used to, before. The only thing he *truly* enjoyed any more was the massage. There was just something sinful about having someone’s hands move over your entire body, working the kinks and knots out of tired, stressed muscles. And the girl who provided the service was pretty and good, and he knew that she was more than willing to offer him more than just a regular massage.

Sometimes Quatre wondered why he didn’t take her up on her offer. After all, it had been over three months since he’d last… and he was a young, healthy male. But even on the days he thought he might just go ahead and accept her extra favors, he left without, offering her only a smile and a generous tip.

It wasn’t that he didn’t date, or that he was exclusive with anybody. In fact, Sadira *insisted* he date—“It’s good for your image, Quatre, if you’re seen as being sociable,”—and his sisters were more than willing to provide him with willing, available young ladies. Once, Farrah had offered one of her ex- boyfriends up as a possible date. Sadira had quickly told her to try and be a little serious. It was kind of a shame. The boy in question had been cute. Not as cute as…

Quatre sighed, his eyes falling shut as he took a deep breath. He had to stop thinking about *him*. It wasn’t doing anybody any good. He looked at his time piece. He was supposed to pick up another one of his sisters’ choices in fifteen minutes. Not for the first time, Quatre hoped that this girl might be at least a *little* likable to him. After all, Sadira *had* suggested dating someone *more* than just once…

Quatre sighed again and headed for the door. The sooner he got this over with the sooner he could go to bed and get back into another day with WEI.

 

 

He was unlike any other man she’d ever met. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, she hadn’t yet decided. But she liked him, she knew that much. Not *like* like, but liked. She would *never* want a Relationship with him—he was too quiet and stoic for her. She preferred her men with a good sense of humor and an argumentative streak that could match her own fiery attitude.

But she liked him. Heck! She even loved him, you could say. Yeah, she loved him. Like a brother. She had one once. Not too many people bothered to remember that she wasn’t always just a carnie-orphan. That she’d actually had parents, and a baby brother. That she had a family. Once.

Of course, that was many years ago, now. Her mother and father and baby brother were all dead now. They died when a group of rebels attacked their circus train, back on Earth. She had only been four or five. They say circus folk are like a family. For her it *was* family. The only one she could really remember; the only one she had left.

She’d seen carnies come and go, some stayed. She stayed. She had nowhere else to go, and, truth be told, she really didn’t want to go. She couldn’t imagine life outside the circus. The thought of living in just one house, day after day, month after month, Hell! Even year after year! It made her queasy. Of course, you could argue that she lived out of the same trailer, but, you see, that was different. The scene outside her window varied every other week. In fact, the only time they’d stayed in one place for *longer* then four weeks was during the war, when some of their usual stops were blocked by battles.

So she stayed with the circus, followed where it led, made friends with the newcomers, remained a “darling” to the old-timers. There were only a few old enough to remember her parents now, though. Circus life wasn’t easy, but she remembered the stories told of her parents. She even had a few pictures of them. If one looked closely at the pictures before and after her birth, they’d realize the woman was different; that the woman who carried her and gave her life was not the same woman who nursed her and sustained that life.

Her *birth* mother had died bringing *her* into the world—though, not many would talk about it. After all, none of the carnie-folk really new that much about her mother. Katerina Bloom had already been pregnant when her husband, Galeno Bloom, brought them to the circus. Katerina’s younger sister was the woman she thought of as mother; the woman who began to raise her. It was her mother’s sister her father had remarried and who had given birth to a baby boy, her little brother, her half brother.

But she had loved him. She had loved him with all her little heart. And she had nightmares for years after their deaths. Night after night, filled with terrors of war, bombings, fire in the sky, screamings, angry shouts, her brother’s terrified wailings…

She was lucky. The circus kept her. They could have given her away, dropped her off at one of those orphanages. But they didn’t. They kept her. Carnie folk always watch out for one of their own she learned. She became a child of the circus, learning every trick of the trade. She *could* do any number of the acts—she knew them all—but her favorite by far was the knife toss. The feel of the blade as it resting in her palm, waiting for its release off her fingertips.

She very rarely missed—her aim was always on target. The first time in years had been when she’d sliced Trowa’s cheek last spring. She’d been angry at herself and, in typical fashion, had berated him for not ducking. He had just sat there, calm as you please, and let her yell at him. She was already infatuated with him.

She really couldn’t explain what it was about the quiet, tall, teenaged boy that appealed to her. She just knew she wanted to protect him and make him happy. Every time he’d disappear, going off on one of his missions she now realized, she’d be worried and then relieved when he returned, safe. She should have guessed sooner that he was involved in the war. The truth was, Trowa was a very attractive boy and she honestly thought he was heading off to meet some girl he’d recently meet, shacked up somewhere in the town they’d just entered.

Trowa never brought anyone home, though. At least, not any girls. And the one boy he’d brought home she didn’t think anything about—him being as taciturn as her ‘brother’. She just figured he was a friend, and was happy that Trowa had made one. So happy that she didn’t even argue when they chose to sleep outside in the woods instead of in a trailer. Of course the second boy…

Heero… He looked like he’d been in a terrible fight, and gotten the worse of it. Trowa didn’t offer any explanations, and she was too proud to ask… But…

They were gundam pilots. Trowa, and Heero, too. She figured even the other boy Trowa had brought home—she couldn’t even remember his name now—was probably one, too. And those other two boys, the ones that came to the circus when they were back in space? The one with the braid and the blond one she’d seen on TV today, Quatre Winner. They were probably both gundam pilots as well. She wondered if they were close, the five pilots, and if she would get the opportunity to meet them all. She’d never met a real celebrity before. Well, excluding her brother and Heero, of course.

Her brother and Heero. Her brother liked Heero—he’d laughed and smiled around the other boy. It was really the only time she could remember Trowa smiling, let alone laughing. She hoped she got to see the other boy again. She didn’t like it when Trowa looked so lonely. It wasn’t good for him.

With a heavy sigh, Catherine Bloom pushed off the elephant post and crossed over to where her brother squatted next to the lion’s cage. “Are you coming to bed?”

Trowa didn’t look back at her; didn’t even seem startled that she was there, as if he already knew she’d been watching him for the past five, ten minutes. He continued to scratch the large feline’s forehead, right between the eyes. “I’ll be there in a little bit,” he replied, his voice little above a whisper.

Catherine smoothed her palms over his shoulders, squeezing a minute before leaning forward and giving him a hug from behind. “Okay,” she said, popping a kiss on his cheek before pulling away. “But don’t stay out too long. Those cats have to sleep, too, you know.”

“What’s sleep,” he asked the empty air.

 

 

“You don’t like it. Go ahead, you can say it,” the meticulously dressed blonde was saying, waving a hand.

“I never—“ the young businessman tried to respond.

“Sir? The reports you asked for?” The door to his office was open, his secretary dropping thick folders down on his desk and beating a hasty retreat.

“Thank you, Margaret, I—“ He reached for the top folder.

“Quatre? I *do* need an answer,” Felicia reminded him, arms crossed over her chest, one red heeled shoe tapping away impatiently.

Quatre sighed and fell back into his chair, shooting a *look* towards the oldest Winner present in the room just then. “Felicia,” he said agreeably, authoritively—the note in his voice causing all the others to hush up. “If you would like to throw a gala at Winner Hall, you are more than welcome. Please just give Maritza the information and she’ll help you.

“Sara, you’re right. I don’t like it,” he continued, dismissing one sister in favor of another. “I absolutely refuse to wear that suit. Amber, I can’t sit for you right now. I know I promised to, but if you could talk with Maxine, she’ll be able to work out a time with you that will work for both of us.”

He depressed a button that connected him to Margaret’s desk outside. “Meg? I need those files we talked about sent over to Alanis’s office. They need to be on her desk no later than 3 today.”

“Right away, Mr. Winner,” a voice filtered back.

“Angela,” he continued, connecting to another desk.

“Yes, sir?”

“I need to talk to Ranalyn sometime within the next five minutes please?”

“Of course, sir,” the girl replied. “I’m still trying to get through.”

Quatre sighed, but acknowledged his sister was a very busy and wanted woman. “Understood.” He looked to the four women who were still in his office. “Is there anything else?” he asked, hoping his voice was free from the stress and annoyance he was feeling.

“You *really* don’t like it?” Sahara asked, holding up the blue and orange striped suit. Quatre *looked* at her and she sighed, putting the garment away.

“*No later than *three**,” Alanis reminded him before grabbing her purse and striding out the door, Sahara not far behind her.

“It won’t take more than ten minutes,” Amber cajoled, holding her camera aloft.

“Am…” Quatre shook his head. “Fine! But make it quick, I really *do* need to get this work done.”

“Work! Work! Work!” Farrah groused. “That’s all you ever *do* anymore! You *know* what they say about all work and no play,” she quipped, kicking her legs over the side of the plush chair—which she was sitting in sideways.

“Speaking of work,” Amber intoned, raising the camera to focus on the young man behind the desk. “Shouldn’t you be thinking of getting a job?”

“What for?” the youngest Winner daughter questioned, smiling sweetly. “It’s not like any of us actually *have* to work, and since I don’t have a *passion* like the rest of you do, I don’t see the point in wasting time trying to earn money that I don’t need and wouldn’t have the slightest clue of how to spend!”

“So you’re determined to torment the rest of us, is that is?” her sister replied, snapping a shot of Quatre moving the folders off his desk. “Smile for me, Quatre,” she instructed and the boy—who hadn’t realized she’d begun—looked back startled. “Oooh, you *are* a cutie!” she teased.

“If you want to call it ‘torment’,” Farrah answered, winking at her brother. “I prefer to think of it as… Keeping you all on your toes!”

“We all have *real* jobs,” Amber retorted. “We don’t need any help ‘keeping on our toes’.”

“You’re just grumpy ‘cause Kirk’s visiting his parents with the girls and you haven’t gotten any in the last two days!”

The camera fell from Amber’s face as she reeled on her sister. “That is a *HORRIBLE* thing to say, Farrah Winner!” She was shaking with anger when she turned back towards Quatre. “We can continue at another time,” she said before storming out the door.

Quatre sat, stunned, mouth gaped. “That wasn’t very nice, you know,” he said when he finally recovered his voice.

Farrah just giggled, sitting up in her chair. “I know, but it’s the truth. At least now we can go to lunch. Come on! I found this really great place that’s open for lunch and has some of the *yummiest* eye-candy in all the colonies!”

Quatre sighed, shaking his head but getting up anyway. “Oh? And just what is this ‘really great place’?” he asked, not sure if he really wanted to know.

“Oh, it’s this gay bar down on Keeley and Lemmings street,” she answered gaily, tugging him out the office with her.

“Oh, you’re bad…” he replied, a smile tugging at his voice.

“I know,” she could be heard answering.

 

 

 

 

**In the Pale Moonlight by Andrea Readwolf**

**Part Three Act Three**

 

“Bonsai,” the bulging-nosed, wild-haired man announced, sitting back in his chair at the gaming table.

“Dammit, Pete!” his counterpart exploded, throwing up his arms in disgust as he realized his loss. “Of all the downright, rotten, no-good—“

“There is no reason to rant,” Palwashi Hilel instructed, coming up behind the loser and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Now please get up, Garret. It is my turn.”

Garret Green vacated his seat at the gaming table quickly, allowing Hilel to replace him, and he grumbled all the way to the old blue-checkered couch where he plopped his old bag of bones down and snatched up the remote.

“I *was* watching that,” Samuel Jackson announced when the vidscreen flickered from the news to a cartoon.

“Maybe so, but it was boring,” the long-nosed, mushroom-haired man replied.

“And *this* is childish,” his life-long friend retorted. He would have reached for the remote, but with his claw off and his other arm wrapped, he was out of luck. “I would like to know what is happening outside this room and I am at a disadvantage to know!”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Garret groused. “Or have you forgotten, the war is over? Our part in history is no longer necessary.”

“Nonsense!” Samuel snapped. “You’ve just been moody ever since we got here and I am getting sick of it!”

“*I’m* the one who’s *moody* is it?” Garret tossed the remote at him. “Fine! Watch your stupid news!” He sat there, grumpy and pouting, while Jackson contorted his body around so he could reach the remote with his good hand. The vidscreen flickered back to the news.

He was about to try another station when Hilel called out to him. “Turn the sound up,” he requested, eyes squinting, his mustache twitching. “Ah! It is, it is! How wonderful!”

“That’s your pilot,” Jackson realized, turning the sound up as requested. “Ah! And that’s that noisy child who was chasing after my boy!”

:::: Vice Minister Relena Darlian and CEO of Winner Enterprises, Quatre Raberba Winner, met today in L2 to discuss possible solutions to help rebuild the American LeGrange Point’s fractured economy…::::

“L2, huh?” Garret mused, nodding. “I wonder if this has anything to do with Duo.”

“What about Duo?” Howard asked, coming through the door along with Osiris, arms loaded with bags of groceries.

“Quatre and Relena Darlian are on L2,” Hilel informed him.

“L2, huh?” Howard dropped his load off in the kitchen. “Hey, that’s where Duo and Heero are holed up at.”

“Heero is with pilot 02?” Jackson blinked, surprised by this information.

“Yep!” Howard washed his hands while Osiris began putting the food away. “He and Duo set themselves up in their own apartment, last I heard. They have some “community-reconstruction” gig they’re working on.”

He snagged a beer before leaving Osiris in the kitchen and joining the others in the common area. “It should be good for them. I can’t see them staying out of things for any length of time.”

He took a swig of the brew, giving out a satisfied sound of approval. “Speaking of which, you guys have been leeching off me for the last six months—not that I don’t love you all or anything, but don’t you think it’s time you moved out?”

“And do *what*?” Garret demanded of his brother.

“Oh, I don’t know,” the older man replied, leaning back against the breakfast bar, watching Hilel and Seagram continue their game. “Get a real job. Find your families. Something.”

“A real job would be entirely boring after the lives we have led,” Jackson answered, flipping the station again.

“And what about Shima?” Howard was quick to ask. “Aren’t you curious what she’s been up to in all this time?”

“No.”

“Well that’s rather callous, don’t you think?” He crunched the beer can and went to deposit it in the trash receptacle.

“The last I saw her,” Hilel offered, “she was still working with/for Winner family.”

“Surely, by now she realizes that her work is no longer necessary,” Seagram responding, moving another piece on the game board in front of him.

“That would not matter,” Osiris spoke up, coming from the kitchen with a bottle of tea. “She is as stubborn as her father.”

“At least she’s prettier,” Garret added, contemplating grabbing the remote again.

“You shouldn’t be talking about looks,” Jackson snapped, clicking off the vidscreen completely.

“Quite the contrary,” Garret answered amiably. “Seeing as how *my* suit was the best—“

“Oh, GIVE IT UP!” Jackson growled, stumbling to a standing position, tottering for balance. A startled look overtook his features a moment before he was tumbling to the floor. Shouting was the last thing he heard as his body was swallowed up in a gulf of icy pain.

 

 

She pressed against the cool metal wall, praying that she wouldn’t be discovered. If Dekim thought she was spying—or worse, she was neglecting her studies—he would be sore with her, and Mariemeia dreaded what could happen when her grandfather was sore. But, by right, she deserved to know what was going on in that other room. After all, what affected her army affected her, did it not? And the progress on the new mobile suit facility definitely affected her army and her.

At least, she *thought* the man she’d had seen enter Dekim’s office a few minutes ago was from the new satellite, but, it didn’t sound like they were talking about her new mobile suits. That was strange… Mariemeia pressed closer, trying to make out their words.

“I don’t care *where* they are!” Dekim was yelling, but the other man was answering in hushed whispers and Mariemeia couldn’t hear what he was saying. “I want them *found*! Is that *understood*?”

She could hear the other man’s muffled reply. ‘He sounds weak,’ she thought scathingly. “That is *your* job! Find them and *persuade* them to join us in our glorious cause! As *per* *their* *original* *instructions*!”

She pictured the nerve at Dekim’s forehead pulsating grandly—as it did whenever he became enraged; his face deepening into a rich plum. She tried vainly to swallow the giggled that came, unbidden, and the image.

“Mariemeia?” It was more a command than a question.

She straightened to her full height immediately—ice filling down her bones so that she stood erect, shoulders back, chin up. “Yes, Dekim,” she smiled prettily like she’d learned and pushed the door open. Inside was her grandfather, standing tall behind his oversized desk, and a sniveling-looking man in a grey suit with fallen shoulders. ‘Weak,’ she reasserted.

“Mr. Grayson here is in charge of recovering our gundams and their pilots for us,” he informed her.

She turned back to the man, allowing her eyes to judge him. He seemed to cower away from her and she smiled. “I look forward to meeting my greatest warriors,” she replied.

 

 

They were military brats—six homes in less then two years. When the orders for L1 came in, mother told father she had no intention of moving after that, so he’d better be sure space was were he wanted to live. Admiral Howard Green, Sr. was as enamored with space as his two sons. It was an easy decision.

So they’d packed up their belongs and hopped a shuttle to space. For 10-year- old Howard Jr. and his 6-year-old brother Garret, it was a dream come true. Colony life was different from Earth. Getting used to hydro-showers (because water was expensive in space) and regulated time, weather reports that were accurate—*three* weeks in advance! —and Astroturf, specially designed grass that thrived in the lower g-force of the colonies. These were things the two imaginative little boys adjusted to quickly, and, well, if their mother complained about not being able to do all the gardening she was accustomed to, it was a minor drawback.

Garret wasn’t one to make friends easily. Howard, on the other hand, was *always* making friends—of either sex. Everyone was always hanging off of the older Green boy’s words, and if Garret tagged along on some of their more adventuresome excursions, he was tolerated because of Howard.

The fact that Garret managed to make one friend all on his own was testament to the other boy’s…strangeness. Samuel Jackson was a native Japanese colonist who neither possessed a Japanese name nor *looked* very-much Japanese. At least, not to Garret anyway. Not that such things mattered, really. In the end it was the eccentricities of both boys, combined with their lust in pursuit of science and discovery, that made them fast friends upon meeting.

It is like that, you know. Social outcasts finding each other in the throng of school, family, life. Bonding together as only children can do—full-heartedly, passionately, vibrant with the promise of youth. The fact that their friendship survived sixty years was proof of how eccentric the pair was.

In Senior High, Sam and Garret ran into another social outcast in the form of a boy, two years their junior, who was said to be a ‘genius’—Palwashi Hilel. A year later, when Howard left for college, he befriended and brought home a Chinese-enthusiast, Indra Osiris. It was only another three years, when Sam and Garret took their turn as college freshmen, that Pierre Seagram joined their small circle and completed the “Fabulous Five” as Garret referred to their group.

Garret, Sam, Hilel, and Osiris were already referring to one another by the letter of their last name—a habit Seagram easily adapted to, and one Howard was opposed to. “Just call me ‘Howard’,” the older Green brother would say, grinning over his shades. “Let Gary over there be the ‘G-meister’ of this group!”

It would be impossible to say whose idea it was originally to try and build a mobile suit. It was a universal thought, you could say—like unicorns and dragons, or the Lock Ness Monster. Like any normal group of boys who were too strange or too shy to go out and hang with the crowd, get drunk, get girlfriends, and partake in the orgy of college life, the five young man locked themselves in their rooms and devised fantastic scenarios of giant robots operated by a single human being. Their notes and outlines included detailed diagrams with schematics. Arguments over every-little-inch of the hypothesized suit resulted in weeks of one person not talking to another.

It was during one such argument that Howard caught sight of one of the diagrams in his brother’s room. Intrigued, the older Green sibling “borrowed” the plans. Two years later, the Federation was offering him a deal to build the first known mobile suit.

Tallgeese wasn’t *exactly* the same mobile suit the G-team had intended. That was Howard’s own influence—embellishing the suit to fit his own desires. Shirin, the suit Osiris took with him to the L5 colonies, was the intended outcome, which they were able to build after they exited college—and that suit *still* did not meet with their approval. The titanium used to construct the suit was too heavy and gundamium was yet to be discovered in the Winner mining labs.

The Federation felt the same way, and Tallgeese was set aside in favor of smaller, lighter suits.

It was in college that something remarkable happened in their group. One of their members met and fell in love with a beautiful young woman. That in and of itself was not the extraordinary event since it was a common occurrence for the five young men. The significant factor was that the girl fell in love right back.

Trinity Midorikawa was a political science graduate going for her master’s. It was a “kick in the behind by fate,” as she commonly informed him, that she and Samuel Jackson bumped into one another in the mess hall one rainy afternoon when Trinity had forgotten her raincoat. She had a debate in Rolf’s Hall in twenty minutes and when Samuel offered to lend her his umbrella he had never expected to see her or the umbrella again.

A day later, Trinity was standing at his doorstep, umbrella in hand, a radiant smile on her face.

Samuel Jackson might be many things, but a fool to pass up an opportunity of a lifetime was not one of them. In less than five months he proposed and six months later was married to Trinity Midorikawa.

“‘Trinity Jackson’ has a *much* nicer ring to it than ‘Trinity Midorikawa’,” she used to tease him. It was another eight months before she announced she was pregnant.

To suddenly have a woman thrust into their circle was disturbing enough—even though Trinity was often times too involved in her own school work and debates, full of political affairs to really interfere with them—but to have a pregnant one! And then two woman—albeit, in two different sizes…

Garret had, at first, been very distrustful of the beautiful woman politician. After all, what could a girl like that want with his comrade? He had been the most vocal against the marriage and when he learned of the pregnancy he was insistent that child could *not* be his friend’s. Jackson informed him that it most certainly *could* be, and more over, *was*. It wasn’t until Trinity asked him if he’d consent to being Hiroshima’s godfather that the younger Green sibling came around to the idea of his childhood friend as a married man and father.

And now, forty years later, after loosing his good friend Trinity Jackson to an assassin, after losing his father to a 20-year war, after losing his mother to Kenward’s Disease, after losing so much… Garret Green now stood to lose his best friend, too.

 

 

It was a small apartment; he didn’t need anything big for just him. One long room that contained the bedroom, living room, and kitchen.

It was a dump. The cheap linoleum floor was cut up and covered in a layer of dirt so thick that even bleach wouldn’t cure it. The one window at the back of the room had cardboard shoved into square broken panes of glass. Dingy, thread- bare curtains hung limp to either side of the window. There was a mattress on the floor, covered in soiled and stained sheets. An overturned box against the wall supported an old, obsolete television that only received 10 stations. A broken lamp, held together by duct-tape, was on the floor next to the bed. A table with three rickety chairs—the fourth being in a broken heap underneath the table—separated the “bedroom” from the “kitchen”. The kitchen was a countertop with a microcook, a cooler, and a sink. There were two doors in the apartment. One lead to a dingy, dirty hallway; the other, to a skank bathroom.

Everywhere, laid overturned boxes of take-out, molded and sour, and empty bottles.

In this ravel lay the heir to the Dragon clan, lost, wasting away in his self- inflicted prison. His black hair was stringy and greasy, tangled clumps against the sour pillow. He was too tired to try and wash the oil from his body, to scrape the layer of dirt off with a simple bar of soap. Too tired to move off the bed, to do something useful or productive.

He had no energy. His body’s charkas were off-balanced, he knew, but he was too tired to remedy the problem. So he just laid there, staring off into space, staring at the cracked ceiling, staring at the stained wall, staring out the broken window to the brick-faced wall outside, staring at the creased picture in his hand.

He found himself doing that a lot. Staring at her picture, his thumb tracing the image of her face. So often his thoughts revolved around her—what would she say if she were to walk in that door right now? How would she react to knowing he was the cause of their clan’s annihilation? What would she say if she knew he was in love with another man? Worse, a man who was already in love with someone else…

He thought about that a lot too. He thought about Duo, dragging to mind every little detail he could remember about the laughing, long-haired pilot.

And he thought about Heero.

More than he wanted to.

Whenever he thought about the stoic Japanese pilot, his thoughts inevitably turned back to that last night on MOII and his stomach turned queasy. His body burned with remembered shame and humiliation—but more than just that, he burned with remembered lust, and he caught himself on more than just one occasion, fantasizing about the pilot of 01.

Wufei didn’t understand his actions, try though he might to analyze them. He loved Duo, he knew that. He would give his life to save the other boy and all he wanted more than to be with him, was for him to be happy. That had to be love, right? There was desire there, too, but… it was so completely unlike the feelings tied up with Heero.

Wufei didn’t love Heero. No, he didn’t, but he did desire him. And admire him. And hate him. He wanted Duo to be happy, and he knew that Heero made him happy. But he wanted it to be him, Wufei. He was jealous of the Japanese fighter, and he didn’t like it. But there was more to it than just that. More to it that he just didn’t understand yet.

His heart ached; his stomach tightened in knots, a sour taste making its way to his mouth. A thought of washing up seared across his mind before fading back into the haze, forgotten.

He wondered why he did what he did, with Heero, like that. What was the purpose of it? Was he trying to get back at the other boy? Was he trying to get back at himself? He didn’t know. He just didn’t know. Was it the liquor? Was it because of what Une had told him, about Treize? Was it because the war was finally over? Was it because he didn’t care anymore?

He wished he had the answers. He wished he could take a shower. He wished… he wished… he wished…

She was so pretty. The lotus blossom of their clans. The prize, the gift, given to his clan, via him. They had been friends, before they’d been promised to each other. That one act seemed to ruin their friendship. Their clans didn’t seem to understand nor care.

She was so beautiful. Full of passion, life, spirit. Her entire body proclaimed her spirit, shouted it out loudly for anyone to hear. Her dark eyes flashed with fire born of that spirit. Her dark hair was long and silky—until she’d learned of her prominent marriage, and then she’d chopped it short in protest.

They were too different. They were too much alike. He *had* loved her. He wondered if she ever understood that. He’d admired her fighting spirit, her will to live and protect those she loved. Their coupling was always passionate, infused with that fire, their wills clashing madly together even as their bodies thrashed and fought for dominance.

He always thought she won those battles.

They were both so young, though. So young. Only twelve years of age. Barely teenagers, let alone adults.

But they both understood the importance of their joining. Perhaps that’s why neither one fought so hard against it. Their marriage joined their two clans, ending hostilities between their families. They were sacrificed for peace, their lives offered up for the lives of their friends and family.

The picture was taken at one of their clans’ many festivals, he couldn’t remember which one. It was before their arranged marriage was announced, when she still smiled freely. Already, she was beginning to show the beauty of the woman she was to have become, if given the chance. The silken dress wrapped around her body, accenting curves that were trying to bloom into being. Her long hair was done up decoratively for the occasion, her face painted with precise dedication. But amongst all that loveliness, it was her eyes that stood out the most to him. Even if the picture’s capture of such a thing was only minute, her eyes still shone with the brilliance of her spirit, aflame with passion of will.

He really did love her. But he’d hated her, too.

He hated her for being his wife, not his friend. He hated her for her passion of life. He hated her for her spirit of living. He hated her for not understanding his needs for spiritual and intellectual stimulation. He hated her for not understanding him. He hated her for making him love her anyway.

He remembered how proud she had been when it was announce that *he* had been chosen to pilot the special machine his sensei was building. He remembered how enraged she had been when he told her he did not want the “honor”. They had fought, violently.

He had managed to strike her.

It made him sick. In all their many fights he had never struck her.

The contact seemed to have surprised her, too, for she looked up at him, those wide, dark eyes shining with confusion and hurt. And then she looked away. He had done the only thing he could think to do. He ran away.

Book in hand, he had escaped to the solitude of his field.

And then they were attacked. It happened so quickly, too soon. They weren’t prepared.

He could still see her face, hot with righteous anger, hovering over him, yelling at him to do something, running away from him when he didn’t move. He could still feel the slight weight of her body, in his arms, as he held her broken and bruised form close to him.

He took her into himself, more completely than ever before. He drank in her spirit, her will, and her fire and swallowed it down. Infused her stronger fighting spirit into his weaker soul, allowing it to lace up and down his will, fortifying himself for the war to come.

He understood then, that it was going to be war. A bloody battle of clashing wills that would set the world and colonies on fire. He suddenly looked forward to it. Looked forward to the opportunity to destroy the bastards who killed his wife. He trained, night and day, in the suit Master O built. He studied it until he knew it inside and out, knew how to take it apart and put it back together again. He learned everything he could about the suit, how to fix it, how to find replacement parts, how it operated. Some of his lessons were just hypothesized, it was true. After all, they couldn’t be sure *how* Shenlong would react to aqua-climated pressures, but Wufei knew all the possible outcomes.

When the signal came for his mission to begin, he didn’t hesitate. Climbing into the cockpit with only one bag full of supplies, Wufei didn’t hesitate or look back. After the door sealed shut and Master O and others started the countdown, he slipped out the one picture he’d brought with him and used a bit of adhesive to stick it to one of the upper consoles.

“Nataku…” he had whispered while he and his gundam went hurtling through space, intent on it’s Earthly destination.

 

 

The medical bed wasn’t the most uncomfortable thing he’d ever slept on, but it came pretty damn close.

The room was small—like most things in space; more compact—but it served its purpose. White walls, a picture of a sunset beach on one, a door, a table with some type of plant on it, the bed, a TV mounted up near the ceiling, and a chair. The various monitor equipment, fluid bags, tubes, and hummings and beepings could be ignored. In fact, it was preferable to ignore them.

Sighing, the man on the bed wished he knew where his optical goggles were. If there was anything he hated more than being uncomfortable, it was being in the dark. There was a shifting somewhere, not from him, and he realized he wasn’t alone in the room—a rather disturbing thought when you couldn’t see.

“Garret?” his raspy voice called out, and he realized there was something stuck down his throat. He didn’t like it one bit and felt like it was going to gag him.

“Don’t try to talk, J,” the man beside him told him, a reassuring hand pressing on his shoulder. “You have a breathing tube stuck down your throat; you’ll only cause more damage if you—“

Samuel Jackson huffed and grumbled silently to himself. What a fine mess this was.

“You’re at Mercer,” G continued, his voice soft and saddened, like he’d been crying. “I gotta tell you; you look a wreck.”

J’s sightless eyes blinked in reply. He tried to reach up and pull the tube out so he could talk… only to realize he couldn’t move any of his limbs. He jerked his chin towards his life-long friend.

“No, J-man. You have to keep that in. It’s the only thing keeping you breathing right now,” Garret informed him. “If you want, it’s not too late for me to call Shima or—“

But J was shaking his head, and he tried to chomp down on the tube gagging him.

“Stop it!” his friend hissed, but the bed-ridden man didn’t reply. After several attempts, Garret finally gave in and wrenched the tube out of his body.

Samuel Jackson felt like his lungs were collapsing as he struggled to take in each breath. “Promise me,” he rasped, loosing the battle. “Watch over them, both.”

Another squeeze at his shoulder told him the other was still there. “Trinity… He looks… so much… like her…”

“I promise,” Garret whispered brokenly, his face twisted in pain and sorrow as he watched the man in the bed who he loved like a brother, like a friend, a best friend. “I’ll watch over them both for you.”

“Proud… of them… love…”

There was so much he wanted to say. There was still so much he wanted to do. But he saw her face, her smiling, radiant face, and he knew nothing more than love as her arms wrapped around him and welcomed him Home.

 

 

It was a small ceremony; five old men staring at a brass urn. It was like they had all been waiting for it to happen and now that it had, they were free to go. They wondered what to do with themselves now, cut free and yet still tied down.

It was Hilel who first announced his intentions of leaving. “I have accepted a research position with Myron University,” he announced one afternoon, less than a week after J’s death.

The remaining three looked at him, and then nodded, looking away again.

Two days later, Seagram mentioned returning to Earth and doing a bit of traveling. They replied with what a good idea that sounded like.

After they saw H off to his fancy research institute, and S shuttled down to Earth, Osiris told Garret that he must leave as well. Garret didn’t ask where, O didn’t offer.

Suddenly, G found himself the only one left, alone with his brother, sitting, staring out at each other from across the table.

“We’ve gotten old,” he said into the silence.

“Yep,” Howard agreed, not sounding very chipper. “We have.”

Silence.

“I don’t remember getting old.”

Howard pulled a long swallow of his beer and didn’t reply.

“I try to look back, and I wonder… was it worth it. Did I do anything worthwhile?”

Howard looked at him, not smiling, not frowning. Dead serious. “You helped save the world, Garret. I’m proud of you for that.” He let a moment pass by before adding, “Dad would be right proud of you, too.”

“I wish I could believe that,” the younger brother whispered.

“It’s the truth.”

Garret stared down into his own beer. “I don’t know what truth is anymore.”

 

 

He was surprised at the squalor he found. Surprised and disgusted. Disgusted with everything and everyone, including himself. He stepped into the flat, expecting something to jump out at him—a rat or roach, maybe. Rotten cartons of take-out tumbled out of his way as he walked through them, eyeing the pitiful kitchen, the table, before his sight settling on the rumpled bed and the body laying on it.

At first he thought he might be too late, that the body was lifeless. But then he breathed a sigh of relief when the body moved, turning over on itself to look up at him. He felt his chest constrict with a torrent of emotions.

“Come with me,” he instructed, he voice soft and steady, not betraying any of his wild emotions.

The figure crumbled in on itself again and turned away from him, without answering.

“Get up,” he commanded without raising its volume. “You will bathe and then get dressed. You are coming with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” the body mumbled. “ ‘Specially not with you…”

He frowned, unaccustomed to disobedience from the boy. But then, he realized, the boy wasn’t really a boy anymore. He reached over, almost loathed to touch anything in the room, and grabbed a handful of the sheet. With a heavy jerk, he yanked both the sheet and the boy off the mattress. The boy glared up at him from the floor.

“You will bathe and dress yourself, or I will do it for you,” he informed the youth, “but either way, you *are* coming with me, Chang Wufei.”

He knew it was a dirty trick, invoking the boy’s honor and pride, but from what he’d seen, if he didn’t, the boy was surely going to condemn himself to an unjust grave. And that was the last thing Indra Osiris wanted to see now that he’d survived the war.

Black eyes glared up into dark brown, insolent, rebellious, and Master O felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps it wasn’t too late after all, to save the boy.

The battle of wills continued for another minute, but the boy was too weak, too uncentered to even come close to winning. Finally, he climbed to his feet and trudged over to the bathroom. A minute later, Osiris heard the water to the shower running. He inspected the room again, shaking his head in dismay.

“This war has asked too much of you, my young friend,” he whispered. “You gave too blindly.”

“Where are we going?”

Osiris turned around, surprised, not having heard the water turned off. The naked young man standing in the doorway was only a hollowed shadow of the boy he knew and the man he was yet to become.

“Get dressed,” he answered. “You’re coming with me.”

 

 

 

 

**In The Pale Moonlight by Andrea Readwolf**

**Part 4, Act THREE**

 

~Act III~

As Devenley Behr set the Shooting Star down, they already knew the small desert village was deserted. What they were looking for had moved on, but they landed anyway with the hopes that some sign might have been left for others--such as themselves--to follow after.

"I don't get it," Carina complained, squinting and shading her eyes with a hand. "All that's here is just a bunch of empty stucco buildings. What're ya looking for?"

Ochenta smiled and ruffled the girl's dark hair. "Just because you don't see anything, doesn't mean something's not there."

"Found it!" Blaire shouted out. "Over here!"

"This is just one of many such cities that belongs to the Sands," Nita continued as they followed Blaire's voice to one of the buildings. "Are people could be anywhere, in any one of those cities. They last time any one of us saw them, they were here."

Blaire had a rug pulled away from the floor; hidden underneath it had been a trap door. The short-cropped strawberry blonde held up the rug for the Carina. "It's a special pattern. Remember it."

Carina studied the multi-colored mat, but didn't see anything special about it. Jack led them down the ladder and threw the dark with a flashlight, until they came to an open cavern, their scruff footsteps echoing in the emptiness.

"They must have left in a hurry."

"From the scorched markings on some of the walls, I'd say they were under attack."

"But who would want to harm simple peasants?"

"It's possible they learned of the soldiers."

"Anything's possible," Jack concluded, swiveling her beam of light around. "We should look for signs of where they might be now."

They split up in pairs, Rini with Nita, Kat heading off with Dev, and Blaire ghosting past with Jack. Generators hummed to life and the dark cavern was suddenly flooded with light.

"Main console," Blaire pointed out. "Nita!"

In minutes the dark-haired woman was into the system and pulling up records.

"It seems they were very interested in those Gundams," Dev pointed out.

"Yes," Nita didn't look away from the screen as her fingers flew over the keyboard. "Especially 04. See here. They actually had the gundam in their possession a number of times."

" '04', huh? I wonder--"

The large display screen flickered before the top-half image of a big breaded man appeared.

"Rashid!"

"You have entered a restricted area," the man said, his deep voice bellowing out in the cavern behind them. "Leave immediately."

"Rashid, don't you recognize us?"

"Hold on," Nita mumbled. "I think it's a recording..." She raced on as the messaged continued to issue out its warnings. "Jino!" she cried out with escalation.

Again, the screen flickered. Again the image of the same man appeared. This time, however, the man's dark, penetrating eyes looked at each of the six girls thoroughly before speaking. "I was told the Oasis retreat had been infiltrated."

Blaire grinned and stepped up behind Nita. "Hello, Rashid. Good to see *you* again, *too*."

The older man's shoulders shook with repressed laughter and he smiled down upon them. "What are you women up to that I find you in an abandoned city?"

"Looking for you, of course!" Jack replied, stepping up beside Blaire at Nita's other shoulder.

"Then you look in the wrong place," Rashid answered. "We are farther to the North."

"Palm Springs?"

He shook his large, bearded head. "No," he replied gruffly. "We have returned to our original home--the true White Sands."

 

 

The office was modest by Earth's standards, but rather luxuriant for the colonies. A desk, a picture of a space nebula on a wall, a fake tree in the corner, and a narrow strip of window near the ceiling were the only distinguishable features of the room. There was no vidscreen; the communications unit consisted of a head set with a mouthpiece, which you could talk into and hear responses by. The only good thing she could discern from this was that the person you were talking to couldn't see what you were doing and that your hands were still free to do those other things.

At that moment, the person on the other end of the call was Prime Minister Gene Madison and those "other things" was her signature at the bottom of an endless pile of paperwork.

"Yes, Gene. I would appreciate it if you could talk to Garibaldi about that. Good. Yes. I'll keep that in mind. Until we talk again. Yes. Goodbye, Prime Minister Madison."

With a sigh, Vice Minister Dorian slid the headset off and massaged her temples. Leaning back into her chair, eyes closed against the bitter artificial lights, Relena didn't bother to look when the door to her temporary office opened and closed without word.

"Phil? Will you have someone make a copy of these and send them out to all the colonial administration offices for approval?" Relena said without looking at him. "The sooner we get everyone's approval, the sooner we can get some of these bills passed."

"Phil isn't here right now."

The thick, nasal response had an immediate reaction--Relena bolted up straight in her chair, cornflower blue eyes snapping open to take in the appearance of her unexpected visitor. And then, just as quickly, the edge melted off her demeanor and she relaxed back in her chair, smiling at him.

"Hello, Heero."

 

 

In a coffee shop of high repute within the boundaries of the capitol city, three women sat around a table with cups of flavored coffee, smiling and laughing as they shed layers of stress.

"It's done," announced the spiky-black-haired woman, raising her mug.

"Here, here!" replied the two sandy-blonde women before taking a sip of their hot beverages.

"Mmm, and *now* we're just waiting for approval to come through," Sally Po continued.

"I see no reason why they should refuse," Anne countered. "After all, it will cost the new government very little and benefit it greatly."

"That's true," Lucrezia Noin was quick to agree, "but someone could still try and stop us."

"Then they are fools," Anne said, angrily sipping at the hot coffee and burning her tongue.

"Probably men," was Sally's reply, grinning at the two women. "The Preventers will be a strong force to help protect peace." She lifted her cup towards Anne. "And *you* will be it's President."

Anne made a face. "I don't think 'President' is the right word."

"Leader?"

"Head-Chair-Person?"

"Mother?"

The women laughed freely, basking in the sense of accomplishment. The proposal for the creation of the agency they'd dubbed "Preventers" was on its way to approval. The Vice-Minister herself was backing the project along with business tycoon, Quatre Raberba Winner. With those two formidable supporters, it was only a matter of technicality before the project was given the stamp of approval.

Anne had already selected the building that would serve as Preventer Headquarters--an office building that had previously belonged to Treize Khushrenada, used for OZ paper-pushers. It was already furbished with everything they would possibly need--with the exception of staff. The Preventers would be very much similar to OZ she realized, and that in and of itself would be the major strike against the agency. After all, what was to stop the organization from rising up and becoming a military power bent on domination?

Nothing.

Nothing except her, and she wasn't immortal. They had worked hard, drawing up a doctrine that would serve as the Preventers' constitution. They had pulled all their resources together, checking and then double-checking over each person's suggestions, searching out the loopholes, searching out the gray areas. They racked their brains out until they'd come up with a solution to every scenario they could think of.

They wrote the book on "PREVENTERS".

"We should have secret codenames," Sally teased.

"What? Like 'Wonder Woman' or 'Bat Girl'?" Noin laughed.

Sally joined in, nearly choking on her coffee. "What? Not 'Lacy Lucy'?"

Noin tossed her crumpled up napkin across the table. "I should have *never* told you about that!"

"Auh! But I think it's *cute*!" Sally caught the rolled up bit of paper easily. "What do you think, Chief?"

"Mmm?" Anne was caught off guard and quickly reined her thoughts back to the here-and-now. "About code-names? I think it's a good idea."

"Good. Then I want to be 'Water'," Sally announced. "Preventer Water. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

" 'Water'?" Noin laughed. "Wherever did you come up with a name like *that*?!"

Sally put on a face of mock-indignation. "It's one of the five basic elements of alchemy--the forerunner of modern medicine. I think it's *very* appropriate." She shrugged, dipping her fingers into a near-by glass of ice water. "Water was said to hold the properties of healing and loving emotion, and, when you think about it, we couldn't exist without water."

They were quiet for a moment, mulling that over while the rest of the world went by without them.

"What were the other four elements?" Noin asked after another minute. "You said there were five."

Sally nodded, tracing invisible patterns over the pink tablecloth. "Earth, Fire, Wind, Water, and Spirit. The old alchemist believed that those five elements made up every living and non-living thing there was in the world."

Noin watched Sally's fingers, staring like one transfixed, hypnotized. "Fire," she whispered unconsciously. She looked up at her friend's face. "What properties did they associate with Fire?"

The older woman sat back in her chair, a smirk taking over her smile. "Passion. Passion of love and hate. A temperamental element that rages with intense energies."

Noin grinned. "I rather like that idea." She leaned back in her seat, too. "All right, then. If you're going to be 'Water', I'll be 'Fire'." They looked to the third woman. "What about you, Anne? Wanna be Earth, Wind, or Spirit with us?"

Anne laughed, her shoulders shaking. " 'Preventer Spirit'? I don't think so."

Sally grinned and shoulder-bumped her. "Nah, she's the 'Mother Preventer', don't you know!"

 

 

"I won't ask how you got in here," she continued, smiling at the Japanese pilot as she studied him. He was a sight for sore eyes. Just his very presence in the room seemed to give her a renewed sense of strength to fight on for a lasting peace. She picked up the folder she had meant for Phil to copy and tapped it against the desk.

"Laws, for the colonies *and* Earth," she informed him, setting the folder back down.

"Your security sucks," he announced, surprising her--though she couldn't be sure which surprised her more: the fact that he actually said something without being provoked, or the manner in which he said it. He looked at the chair before looking back at her. "May I?"

"Of course! Sit, sit!" she motioned to the chair and leaned forward over the desk. "I'm sure didn't come here just to tell me that my security 'sucks', and since you don't have a gun in your hand, I doubt you're going to try and kill me." Her smile turned teasing as she folded her hands over the folder "So what can I do for you, Mr. Yuy?"

He reached into his jean jacket--god! But he looked good in denim!--and handed her another folder. Relena stared at it for a moment before reaching out and taking it from him. He sat in silence while she flipped through the contents, eyes glancing over images and statistics, gracing the proposal with a cursory skim. When she reached the last few pages, she looked back at him.

"I don't understand," she admitted, working loose the lump in her chest some of the images had lodged there. "What do you want me to do?"

He reached over and retrieved the folder from her. "Duo and I have made this our mission," he told her, sitting back in his chair with the folder against one thigh. "This is just one colony in L2. There are many other places like this--on Earth as well as in the colonies."

She looked stricken, and he felt a moment of pathos for her. She was young. The same age as himself. But she was strong too. He knew it was the right decision to come to her. She wouldn't let him--or Duo--down.

"Why did you come to me?" she whispered, her eyes still burning.

He told her the truth. "You get things done."

Relena Dorian looked at the boy sitting across from her and marveled at it. "You are a strange boy, Heero Yuy." It was the only thing she could think of to say, and the words were out of her mouth before she could pull them back.

Heero stood, the folder hanging between them. "You'll do it?" Relena stood, also, and reached out to take it from him. "I'll do my best," she promised, and they both knew it would happen.

 

 

She stared out the window overlooking the balcony, overlooking the street, overlooking the people, overlooking... She knew why she came. They both knew why she'd come. She had told her before when they had met, months ago now, that she was tired of looking back. She had meant it.

With a heavy sigh, Dorothy Catalonia turned away from the sliding glass window. It was a nice apartment, suitable for the woman who was living there--sparse of very many decorations, just a picture here or there on the walls. A vidscreen. An in-sound system. A computer in the corner. A table near the open bar kitchen. Small, but room enough for one person. Yes, it was very suitable for the woman living there.

"Nice apartment," Dorothy commented, clasping her hands in front of her.

"It's not much," Noin replied, "but it's home." Dorothy nodded, but didn't say anything else. An uncomfortable silence stretched out between them and both women realized they didn't like one another very much, which made the gap between them all that more uncomfortable. "Would you like something to drink?"

" Yes, please. That would be nice," Dorothy replied more in route than because she was thirsty.

The longhaired blonde followed her to the kitchen while Noin poured her a glass of water. "So..." she said after another minute. "What can I do for you?"

"Relena," she all-but-blurted out. Dorothy closed her eyes and regained herself. "You could tell me, please, where I can find Miss Relena."

"She's all over the news," Noin replied. "Surely you've been keeping track of what's going on in the world..."

She had been. She knew Relena was in the colonies. She knew just as much--if not more--as to what Relena had been up to these last few months than other people did. But she didn't want to admit to that.

"She's in L2," Noin said finally when she realized the other woman wasn't going to say anything. "Pushing through a Rehabitation Program."

"She is... well?"

"About as well as can be expected when you're running yourself ragged trying to save humanity from itself," Noin replied sourly.

That seemed to amuse the blonde. "You don't agree with Miss Relena's efforts?"

"I don't agree with 'Miss Relena' doing all the word herself," Noin snapped, folding her arms under her chest. "What is it you want to know, Dorothy? Out with it."

Again, the blonde young woman turned back towards the window. "I expected to hear from her..." she whispered, watching large raindrops splatter against the glass. "I thought she would have inquired after me... *sometime* in the last six months..."

Noin warred with herself, torn between wanted to be spiteful and wanting to be sympathetic. In the end, Relena's influence won out. "She's known where you are for over five months."

Long blond hair whipped around in a flying arch, crashing into Dorothy's chest and stomach before bouncing back behind her. "What?"

"As soon as you returned to your family's estate, she's known where you've been, what you've been doing."

"But what--why hasn't she tried to contact me?" the confused woman demanded.

"She thought the next move should be yours," Noin answered as simply and steadily as she could.

Dorothy turned back to the window, smiling. "I see," she said.

'Bravo, Miss Relena. You've out-smarted me once again.'

 

 

Geraldine Dorian sat at the bedside in constant vigil over Milliard Peacecraft. The sounds of the sick room were like home to her now--the low, pulsmic throb of the heart monitor, the steady, raspmic hiss of the respirator, the tiny throp of each drop of IV liquid. A nurse came by regularly to check tubing and bags, replacing old, used materials with new, fresh ones.

Days came and went, curled up with a book; long, lonely nights passed in the day bed she'd had brought into the room. Some days she allowed herself a vacation and took to "exploring" the buildings and grounds she found herself surrounded by. *This* was the life her daughter had been born to. These fancy gardens and whitewashed buildings with terraces and balconies. This was far more than what she'd been raised with. Relena had been raised a pauper in light of this extravagance.

The sleeping Sank Prince remained without change and the hope and optimism she showed her daughter when they talked was abysmally missing when the matron was alone. The servants were a rather cheerful lot, despite their reason for being there--or perhaps because of their reason for being there. For the first time in many years, this country manor home had been opened, a Peacecraft had returned to them, and even if he was unconscious, the people still viewed it as a benevolent sign of good fortune for the future.

Villagers from the nearby town, often came to drop of tokens of well-wishes without ever asking to see if it was true, that the Sank Prince whom they had thought lost to them was really alive, was really living there. For their sake, as well as her daughter's, Geraldine prayed the young man would get better. She talked to him, never expecting a real reply but continuing their conversations as if he had given one anyway. She allowed herself to become fond of a man she wasn't even sure would live.

"Relena is doing well. Still in Space and complaining about how she misses home and can't wait until she can come back. She's hoping to speak with you when she gets back. I think you owe at least that much too her. After all, she *is* your sister, your only living family. It's a shame you two couldn't have been raised together. You both missed out on a lot because of that, though, you could be sure, I would have never had allowed you to enter the military had you been raised as my son!"

"That lovely young lady, Miss Noin called today. She wanted to know how you were doing, so, of course I told her. I do wish you would do something more than just lie there on your back. It *can't* be healthy, I'm sure. I was telling Relena *she* needs to get out more, do a little exercise of some sort, get her blood pumping. She said that, with the way some of those old stuffy heads she has to put up with daily over there, her blood gets boiling enough."

"I heard there's a search going on for those five young men who piloted those Gundams. They still don't know whether to punish them or praise them, the fools. They wouldn't think to praise you, though. I won't pretend to understand why you chose the decisions you did. That's the past; a distinction of intentions and deeds. I can't help wondering why, though. That Lucrezia-girl of yours said that you and General Khushrenada were close friends. I can't even begin to imagine what would possess you two to fight against each other if that was the case. But the girl seems to know you. Better than I know you."

"Relena's proud of you, I want you to know. She's proud that, in the end, you helped save Earth. She's always wanted a brother, you know. I used to feel terrible that I couldn't give her one. Perhaps she knew, somewhere, out there, you were waiting to be found."

 

 

Relena's adrenaline was running high. Fresh from a meeting with L1 representatives, fifty-four hours away from her flight to L2, Vice-Minister Darlian came off the elevator ready and rearing to get through the stacks of paperwork left waiting on her desk. Her overly agitated secretary obstructed her path, however.

"OH! Ms Darlian! Ms. Darlian!" the man who was probably twice her age cried out, flying from the seat at his desk to her side before she'd even cleared the elevator doors. "Ms. Darlian! There's someone waiting in your office!"

Phil was breathless and his rather pasty appearance was the only thing saving him from receiving a fistful of political documents shoved down his throat--it had been a rough meeting.

"Who is it?" Relena asked calmly, using her most nurturing voice that had proven effective against even some of the old hard-ups in Romafeller. She knew for a fact that she had no personal meetings scheduled for today--she'd planned that specifically so she could have the entire afternoon to actually put some sort of a *dent* into her paperwork--and she'd just left the L1 representatives back downstairs...

"She wouldn't say, Ms. Darlian," Phil practically whimpered. "And she wouldn't *leave*, either!"

" 'She'?" Relena suppressed a heart-felt groan. She could just imagine who was waiting for her in her office. Rearing for political battle with the representative of L3, Relena pushed through her office door and--stopped.

"Hello, Miss Relena."

Relena's mouth work, but no sound came out. Finally, she just shut her trap and stared at the other girl.

Dorothy stood up from Relena's chair, a flick of her head sending her long blonde hair swishing across her back. She dropped the folder she'd been reading back onto the desk and met the other girl's blue eyes evenly.

"It is good to see you again," she said after a moment of silence. Ice blue eyes flickered down over Relena's body before coming back up to her face. "You haven't been eating."

Dorothy skirted around the desk to come right in front of the Vice Minister. "But," she continued, clasping her hands in front of her, "that's to be expected. After all, you've been *quite* busy."

Relena watched her approached, wondering what the other girl could want from her; wondering why, after over six months, she was just now coming to her. She moved in dance with the blonde, turning, backing away as Dorothy came closer and then closed the door she'd left open.

"Hello, Dorothy," came her belated reply. Her backside connected with her desk and she took comfort in its solid build. "Yes, I've been quite busy..."

"I must say," Dorothy commented casually, closing in on the other girl until they were flush. She whispered in Relena's ear, "Your security is pitiful."

And then she was gone again, moving around the desk and sitting on a corner. "Yes, so I've been told." Relena followed her, needing to know. "Dorothy... why are you here?"

Smiling, the taller girl leaned over the desk, pressing on the comm unit. Eyes never leaving Relena's, Dorothy instructed, "This is Vice-Minister Darlian's personal assistant, Dorothy Catalonia. Please send a copy of Miss Relena's schedule to me immediately and clear her schedule for the next day." She added as if an after-thought, "Oh, and please have your chief of security contact me. Immediately."

Dorothy held her breath, waiting for Relena's protest.

It never came.

 

 

They had stayed at the retreat for almost six months. It was a vacation they did not soon grow tired of. For Carina, it was a time of great learning. New experiences awaited her at every turn, and she was eager to learn and master them all. She trained mostly with her sisters, for the first time understanding just how deadly the older girls were.

Jacqueline's lessons geared more to hand-to-hand fighting, or street fighting. Rini learned that the most simplest of objects could become a weapon if one knew how to use it. In compliment to Jack's teachings, Katalynna taught her different forms of the martial arts. Rini couldn't be sure what style exactly she was learning, but she understood the concepts, felt the tingling sensation in her body that meant she was doing something right.

As promised, Blaire introduced her little sister to the art of blade and artillery. Rini didn't know the firearm from its retort, yet, but she was well determined to before the end of the year. From Devenley, she learned the dynamics of flying--though the Mangaunac soldiers still wouldn't let her test out her new-found skills in one of their mobile suits. Nita tried to teach her the fundamentals of hacking into a system, but Rini quickly discovered computers weren't her thing.

Her days weren't completely filled with lessons, though she was constantly learning. Some of her favorite times where when she could escape to the bazaar and look at all the many different items there for sale. Or watching the wild flamingos flying out over the waters before landing in the shallows. Or swimming with a group of kids her own age.

And all around her, stretching out for miles out behind the blue waters of the ocean, was pearly white sand. It was like living in a tropical paradise--an ever-lasting beach.

It was on one day, in the middle of July, as she sat arms propped over her knees, chin resting on her forearms, a tall glass of ice tea condensing under the cool shade of a palm tree, the salty ocean breeze catching her lengthened bleached reddish-dark hair up off her back and shoulder, staring at the group of teens in the water below her, that Blaire came to her.

Without speaking, the blonde woman sat down beside her in the soft sand, propping her arms up over her knees. They sat there, in silence, for several minutes, listening to the flamingos' honk and the younger children laugh gaily with childish delight.

"You've learned a lot in your time here," she said finally.

Rini offered a sound of acknowledgement, and then turned, resting her cheek on her arm, and looked at her sister. "But not enough," she said without question or accusation.

Blaire smiled--a soft, sad smile that failed to light up her blue eyes. "You can never learn enough, Carina.

The younger girl studied her for a minute, and then turned back to her review of the group below. "Maybe not," she answered.

"We will be leaving soon," Blaire hedged, following Rini's gaze down at the pool. "You will be staying here." She expected protest. None came. "There is... something... that we have left out of your training. Something that is the responsibility of your eldest female relative to teach you, but..." Blaire licked her wind-chapped lips. "Doce is not here, and," she hesitated, hating to speak ill of any sister. "We fear, if we do not come back, that... she might not tell you at all."

Carina sat back, her arms falling off her knees as she stretched her legs out before folding them under her Indian-style. "You're going off on a mission." Blaire nodded. "And I can't go because I'm not ready yet. I would only get in the way."

Blaire smiled. "That you understand and trust that shows how *much* you have learned." She reached out and cupped her youngest sister's cheek. "Soon, little sister. Soon you will be ready to come with us, and when that time comes, we will not stop you."

Carina stared at her, and then nodded before leaning her shoulder against the tree and refolding her legs. "Where is it you're going?"

The smile fell from Blaire's face, replied with a deep scowl. "There is an uprising in Ebyani."

"But the war is over."

Blaire nodded. "The war is over," she confirmed, "but the battles rage on. That is why there will always be need of good and righteous soldiers. Why we have trained you despite the war's end."

Carina didn't understand how the war could be really over if there were people still fighting, but she didn't try to press it. There was something else... "What is it you wanted to talk to me about?"

Blaire sighed and looked out over the blue waters of the ocean. "The power of invisibility."

Rini frowned, a hundred thought and questions leaping to mind, but she held her tongue. One of the things she had learned in the past half-year was that, sometimes, silence led to answers quicker than questions.

"Do you remember anything of our mother?" the blonde asked suddenly, surprising the younger girl. Rini shook her head and Blaire smiled sadly. "No, of course not... You were only a baby when she died... I was seven." Still the blonde girl didn't look at her, but out over the ocean. Her smile faded as her eyes watered. "She was beaten to death, murdered by her husband, Aba Behr."

The dark-haired girl gasped with this knowledge, appropriately horrified. Never before had she been told the cause of her mother's death, no one had even broached the subject. And no wonder...

" 'Never let them know,' she told us as she was laying there on her bed, bleeding to death. 'Play the role they would have you play; give them what they think they want--but never let them know...'"

"Never let *who* know *what*?" Rini asked breathless.

" 'Never let them know that you are better then them... smarter... stronger... That you will live longer than them and better than them... That you will survive even when they are all dead--through your daughters... and her daughters... and their daughters... That you cannot die.'

"I remember every single word, as if it happened yesterday." Blue eyes squinted off at the horizon. "Her voice is burned in my memory...

" 'They think they can control us,' she said, 'that we are weaker than them because of our sex. They underestimate us... and that is their mistake...'" Blaire's eyes shut against some unseeable sight. " "Our life is a war... and I have been a traitor all my born days, a spy in the enemy's country... Live Life with your head in the lion's mouth... overcome with yeses, undermined with smiles, agree them to death and destruction, let them swallow you till they vomit and bust wide open... and never forget the power of invisibility..."

Suddenly, Blaire was looking directly at her, her cold blue eyes boring into her with ferocious intensity. "Do you understand?"

Overwhelmed, large golden brown eyes stared back at the blonde. Dumbly, Carina slowly shook her head, eyes never leaving Blaire's.

Blaire's features softened without warning and she reached out and touched Rini's cheek again.

"The power of invisibility has to do with the concept that, because you are a woman, men will overlook your significance and you can get away with stuff that they would deem 'too sophisticated' or 'too smart' for a woman's psyche... We're not very much like this now, entering a new century... but... only a couple of centuries ago... and for millennia before that... We were underestimated... Invisible to those in power...

"What I think she meant is, men tried to get some kind of revenge on women. After all, the Woman proved to have a stronger spirit than the Man, for Eva managed to convince Adam to eat the apple. So the Man complied with the Woman's will, and proved to be weak. So now the Woman is also the image of the Sin and Men used their physical strength to proclaim themselves stronger. The only reason for women's bad position in society is the whole Judo-Christian religious thing from the past centuries."

Blaire smiled and looked off toward the see. "I am not blaming the religions--that would be too easy. Before them and after them, women were recognized as equals. I blame the women who allowed themselves to be repressed." She looked back towards her sister. "That is why we have trained. That is why we have trained you. So that you will not be trapped by the mistakes of the past. So that, without us, you will be equal, you will have power." Again, she touched her sister's cheek. "And now, you will understand how to use that power."

Long after Blaire and her sisters had left, Carina Behr sat by the ocean and pondered the power of invisibility.

 

End of Act III


	4. Act 4

**Part 1 Act FOUR**

 

~Act IV~

~ Something was wrong. In the dark, they stared at one another, eye large with incomprehensible fear. He kicked at his sheets, wanting to climb into bed with 'JJ'. She always made him feel better, even when she was scared herself. He was ten short steps away from her bed when the wall behind them exploded.

Their screams filled the room. There was shouting.

He looked up from the tiny ball he'd huddled into. The beds were on fire. Brynne, Jade, Trey, Ruben, and Eva were writhing in the fiery inferno. The only reason he wasn't there with them was because he'd disobeyed the rules and gotten out of bed.

He struggled wobbly to his feet, screaming for JJ. The smell of burnt hair and burning flesh curdled his tummy. He stumbled forward, tripping over bits and pieces of the wall. The stinging flames licked at his outstretched fingers as he reached for her hand.

A hard weight yanked at his middle and he was pulled away. His world whirled around him. He saw the face of the man. He tried to tell the man to help save his brothers and sisters, but the man didn't listen. He screamed as the man run away from his bedroom, carrying him away from his brothers and sisters. ~

 

 

Heero woke up with a start, breathing hard and sweating. Resting his head in his hands, he waited for his pulse to calm down and his breathing to return to normal. Next to him on the bed, Duo mumbled in his sleep and wiggled. Heero smiled.

The last ten months of his young life had been the best he could ever remember. The last four had been like heaven since Duo and he had moved into their own apartment together. Not that the whole time had been peaceful or anything. Heero hadn't expected living with Duo to be peaceful. Duo was anything but peaceful. He was a spitting firecracker and sometimes he made Heero so mad he just wanted to hit him.

But he didn't. He never did. He would die before he hurt Duo. But there were several times when he'd had to walk away--to just get away. Those times, he usually found a bar across town that served his purpose, and when he finally came home, or Duo finally found him-- whichever came first--they'd laugh at their foolishness and kiss and make up.

Heero had felt... almost... *human* this past year. He had laughed more, smiled more, and actually been... happy. Duo made him happy.

That was something he hadn't really experienced in over five years. Not since...

Heero couldn't remember a time before Odin Lowe and his group. They had been his family, the ones who raised him, but Odin had told him, when he was seven or eight years old, that he found the boy when he was just a toddler. He had smiled when he was with Odin's team. He had laughed. He had felt.

When Odin died... he just... shut down. He still felt, but, for some reason, he couldn't touch those feelings. He was conscious of them, but he didn't want anything to do with them. His training as a gundam pilot only distanced that gulf between his emotions and him. But they weren't nonexistent. They were never *not* there. He just couldn't touch them. All that was left was icy rage and determination.

Almost two years ago, that changed. First, the girl he'd promised to kill, who still followed him; and then, the boy who'd rescued him from himself. They came into his life and... everything began to fall apart. The walls he'd built around himself, to protect him from the pain of death, the pain of being alone, the pain of living... They melted the numbness.

And all he could do was threaten to kill them.

But the didn't stop. It was too late; the damage had already been done.

He wanted to die. Up until that very last moment, looking down the sightings of Zero's beam cannon, staring up the ass of that flying chunk of Libra... He had wanted to die. He craved it, longed for it, needed it.

And then he thought of her. And he thought of him. And he thought of the others. They would be sad if he died. He would be missed. His death would hurt them like Odin's death hurt him.

He decided to live.

 

 

The day of the barbeque dawned bright and hot. Their colony was still having trouble regulating the temperatures, but the people of Miramar weren't too upset about that. Not today. Today was a day of celebration.

July 31 was a day to mark their return to life. The city's return to life. It was a birthday celebration.

The entire district of Miramar had been reborn. There was still a lot of work to do, but the spirit within the people had been renewed. Seeing the difference in the one building, more and more residents joined in to help clean out the district.

Duo was thrilled. Many of the people living in the streets were people he grew up with, or children of people he grew up with. It had made him sad to see they were still trapped there. But now, with everyone helping in some way, it was really becoming the people's district.

One of the girls from his old gang found him and asked why he was doing this. She was holding a dirty little baby swabbed in an even dirtier rag.

"Because," he told her. "It's what's right and I can."

Hilde was managing the Salvage Company by herself for the most part. Duo found a couple of men and women to help her out. They had been suspicious at first, but only too happy to find out they would be paid in credits and lunch.

He had to cut his hours down at school--only going two days a week instead of the original five, but he was still keeping up with his studies. Duo had found that, yes indeed, he liked college courses a whole lot more than normal school. He also managed to convince a few professors to come down to Miramar a couple nights a week.

Now his 'family' was not only rebuilding their home, but rebuilding their minds.

"Education is important, Duo," Father Maxwell had told him once. "It is the only thing that can prevent you from being a slave. If you know, then you can avoid those mistakes."

"Education is dangerous," Sister Helen had told him on another occasion. "It allows people to think for themselves."

He was seeing the truth of that for himself right here on this colony. For years, the people of Miramar didn't know they could be anything more than petty thieves, pickpockets, and beggars. Now, they were beginning to understand...

It had been hard at first, dealing with them. But Heero had been wonderful. The Japanese boy had a way with speeches. When he talked, everybody listened. He also seemed to know what was needed. Duo would have been lost without him. Physically and mentally. Spiritually lost.

"What are you thinking?"

The violet-eyed young man smiled, watching his lover go through his morning ritual without stopping. He shifted on the bed, repositioning his head on his arms, as he laid out on his stomach, naked.

"I'm just wondering what makes you tick," Duo answered as Heero continued with his slow, even push-ups.

"My heart. Next question." The Japanese boy only sounded slightly winded, his voice still steady and even.

Duo laughed and rolled onto his back, hanging his head over the edge of the bed. "You're really something, know that, Heero?" He swished his hair over the floor, his grin widening when he noticed Heero looked at the loose ends.

"So you've told me."

"I love you."

Heero stopped, mid-push, still for exactly ten seconds before he rolled over and sat Indian-style, facing the bed. "What's wrong?" he demanded, that cute little frown tugging at his lips.

Duo rolled over, off the bed, falling into a sit across from Heero, still grinning. "Nothing. I just feel really lucky to know you."

The coffee-haired boy was giving him that look like 'I don't believe you'. Duo leaned forward, moving to his hands and knees as he crawled up over Heero, who leaned back until he was lying against the floor. The grin never left his face.

"You're wonderful. Incredibly. You inspire people. You work miracles. You're lovely, and I feel incredibly lucky to know and love you," Duo answered, hovering over the Japanese pilot. "What you've done here is nothing beyond a miracle. It's amazing, and it's because of you."

Slowly, Heero shook his head. "It's because of *you*," he countered softly, reaching up to skim Duo's cheek with his knuckles. "It's you who inspires people; you inspire me. It was your dream and desire that made this place come alive--"

"I love you," Duo whispered, leaning down for a kiss.

"Love you, too," Heero replied before meeting Duo's lips with his own.

 

 

It was just three hours before she was supposed to be in the Miramar District, celebrating with Duo and Heero. But she didn't want to go. She knew she had to, for Duo, but she really didn't want to.

Since Duo moved out with Heero into their own apartment, things had been going worse and worse. Not that Duo knew. No, he was probably completely oblivious--which didn't help her any. With his increasing involvement with the Miramar Project, the braided L2 pilot came around the salvage yard less and less--which was fine with Hilde. The less time he came around meant the less she had to force a smile for him while eating her heart out.

Gods! Why did it have to hurt so much?

The dark-haired girl pounded her fist into the cool, hapless white tiles lining her bathtub/shower wall. The hot water from the showerhead sprayed down over her nude form, unconscious to her tormented spirit.

But even with the two gundam pilots out from under her roof, she was still required as a friend to meet with them, to hang out, to laugh and joke. Tuesday nights they meet down at Crazy 8's, the gaming hall, for a couple drinks and some pool. Duo always got a big kick out of it when she flirted outrageously with Heero, telling the Japanese youth she was going to steal him away from Duo and have her wicked way with him. Secretly, she was really flirting with Duo, planning her escape with *him*, not Heero. But she couldn't just say that.

Saturday nights, when the three could be found at Planet Krypton, a bar that also served up a chance for karaoke. It was one of Duo's favorite places--and it had been Hilde's too, but recent events had served to spoil the locale for her. Still, she forced herself to get up there and sing, with or without Duo. She couldn't help herself.

His smiles. His laughter. They were like a drug she couldn't get enough of, even though she knew it was killing her.

She was so jealous of Heero that she'd made herself physically sick on numerous occasions. But what could she do? Before her very eyes, the two grew closer and closer until even passing strangers on the streets could tell they were in love. How could she want to break up something like that? How could she *not* want it to be her?

How could she even fight against him? She could never compare to Heero. Hell! She was even the wrong fucking sex! Maybe if she was a guy, she might've had a chance, but Shit!

She had *known* Duo liked someone, she did. She just didn't think it was a--Geesh! You would think she would've *known* he was gay or something! Isn't there some kind of way to tell if a guy's gay or not? Dammit!

The sick sound of her palm slapping against tile echoed over the constant hiss of the shower hitting the tub basin. Her hand clenched, fisting into a tight ball. The wall was cool against her forehead when she leaned against it.

And then she slumped down into the tub, still leaning against the wall as her tears were washed away.

Why did it have to hurt so much?

 

 

"Hey, stranger. Fancy meeting you here."

He turned at the voice, wide-faced grin on his face. She looked good, he noted off-handedly, eyeing the dust-yellow long skirt and rust-colored blouse, even if she needed some clue on fashion sense. "Noin! Ha ha! What are you doing in L2, let alone in a place like *this*?"

"Actually," the older woman replied, closing the distance between them, "I'm looking for you."

"And found me you have," Duo quipped, taking the hand she offered and pumping it. "Good to see ya again, though, I got a funny feeling this ain't a social visit." He could tell by the tenseness around her eyes and mouth, he'd nailed it.

"Not completely, no," she admitted.

He turned, offering her to join him on his way through the throng of people converged for the occasion. "So what did you want me for?"

"How would you like to be a Preventer," she came right back at him without a pause.

"The Preventers is it now," Duo pursed his lips, never missing a beat as they moved through the gathered population. "I hear old psycho bitch is running the show."

"If you're referring to Lady Anne, then, yes," Noin replied tightly. Duo didn't miss it. "She, Sally, and I have worked hard to put the Preventers together."

He stopped, turned, and looked at her. For the first time, he noticed he didn't have to look up. "Getting kinda chummy there with your enemies, ain't ya, Miss Noin?"

"Ex-enemies," she corrected, looking him up and down. Still dressed in black, but this time he was wearing a red turtleneck under his jacket. "And we were once enemies, too, if you'll recall."

"Yeah, so we were." Duo nodded and they continued along their way. "So why would you be coming all the way out here to track down one ex-pilot when there must be a slew of pilots looking for work?"

"You're a gundam pilot," she said, as if that explained everything.

The great answer to all the questions in the world: being a gundam pilot. Duo sighed and stopped again.

"The Preventers sounds like governmental stuff to me." He looked over past her shoulder. "Why would *I* be interested in something like that?"

"Because you worked so hard to gain the Peace we're trying to protect," Noin answered without hesitation.

"Oh? It's in danger?"

She was scowling at him; he knew she didn't like his flippant response. "Yes, it's in danger," she hissed. "All the time! Haven't you been watching the news?"

Duo frowned and scratched his chin. "I've been a bit busy here," he answered. He hadn't missed a single nightly broadcasting.

"There are rebels all over the place, Duo--remnants of White Fang and Oz that aren't satisfied with the way the war ended; who aren't satisfied with the way things are going," she told him, her voice low and heated. "If they join together--"

"Have they?" he countered, knowing they hadn't, but sharing the same concern. Not that she had to know that. He knew it was only a matter of time before someone got smart and figured out they'd be more powerful if they joined together.

"No, not yet," she answered. "But it's only a matter of time."

"Hn. Interesting." Duo pursed his lips and looked out to the rounded horizon of the colony. Heero and he had been keeping an eye on the two fractions for the last four months. So far, neither force had made a bad step that would give them the excuse to go in and clean up some trash.

"So you'll help us?" she asked, reaching out to touch his arm. "Will you join the Preventers?"

"Nope." He turned to go as if that was the end of the matter. She stared, dumbfounded after him. "Sorry," he called back. "I'm a bit busy here still." He turned and held her with a pointed look. "Why don't you try asking the others?"

"Anne is talking with Trowa herself," the dark-haired woman answered. "And Quatre's working so hard with Miss Relena already..." She shook her head.

"What about Wufei?"

"I was hoping you might know where he is," Noin replied. It was not the answer he expected, so she explained. "No one's seen or heard from him since Christmas. I was hoping you might be able to change that."

Duo looked sad, but he didn't reply.

"And I was hoping that maybe, you might go with me, when I talk to Heero..."

"There's no need," a deep, calm voice answered from behind her.

"Heero!"

"Noin," he replied with a small nod of his head. "It doesn't concern us. Trowa will say 'no', as will Wufei, if you find him."

"You won't help either?" She sounded lost, broken. "I thought *you* of all people would want to help protect the Peace you almost died for..."

"I am," he answered. "Right here," he motioned to the people around them.

"Heero..."

"Duo? Heero?" Hilde ran up to them, breathless, a bright smile on her face. "They're ready for you up front."

"Thanks, Hilde," Duo answered, giving her a wave. "We'll be right there."

"Is there any chance you'll reconsider?" Noin asked, watching the two boys turn away.

"Don't think so," Duo replied, tossing a hand in parting. "But it was good ta see ya again, Noin. Don't be such a stranger, huh?"

As they disappeared into the crowd, Heero's hand slipped against Duo's back. "You heard?" the longhaired pilot asked.

Heero nodded. "Every word."

Duo frowned. "Think we should take a closer look?"

Heero looked up to the stage they were heading to. "Mission Accepted."

 

 

"You make me feel all happy and giddy and girlish," announced one night several weeks later as he laid in bed, grinning like a maniac, watching Heero as the Japanese youth worked through a set of stomach crunches.

Heero paused, mid-crunch, and shot his partner an amused look. "Oh, so I'm the guy in this relationship?"

It was the spark to Duo's fuse. The longhaired boy slid off the bed and crawled across the floor towards Heero. Reaching him, Duo ran his hands up Heero's legs-- caressing the calf, cupping the bent knee, before splaying down that extent of thigh, reaching for their goal. They found the other boy hard and ready. "Mmm...." Duo murmured, pulling in close so he could nuzzle Heero's spandex-clad hardness with his face. "You're most *definitely* male, that's for sure."

Heero's head fell back against the floor. "Mmm..." he replied, his hands burrowing into that expanse of silky, chestnut hair.

Duo propped his chin up on Heero's swollen arousal and looked up the stretch of muscular body to Heero's face. "I'd like to think I'd like you just as much if you were a girl, but... the truth is... I'm rather *fond* of your...'male' attributes." Each movement of Duo's jaw as he talked pressed into one of those 'male attributes' he was talking about. Meanwhile, his hands were busy working the waist of those spandex shorts lower so he could get a better look at those... 'male attributes'.

"Mmm, that's good to hear," Heero answered as his erection sprang free from its confinement and smacked Duo in the face. The longhaired youth didn't miss a beat and was already moving to take him in his mouth. "I'm rather attached to them myself," Heero gasped.

Duo reared back--a fact of which the Japanese youth was not pleased with--and stared at his lover. "Heero! You just made a joke!"

Heero pouted at him; Duo just laughed, crawling up his lover's body and hugging him. They rolled all over the floor, laughing, wrestling until lips met lips and they started kissing with hungered, wild abandon. Duo was positioned under Heero, one leg thrown over the other's shoulder, still kissing with savage intent when a knock sounded at the door.

Both pilots froze, look at each other.

'Where you expecting anyone?' the one look asked.

'Do you think we'd be rolling around the floor naked if I was,' the other replied.

Heero shot Duo a look that clearly said, 'Yes,' before retrieving his shorts and a close-at-hand white tee. Duo was on his feet, right behind him, slipping into a pair of black jeans. Both hand their guns in their hands before they left the bedroom.

The knock sounded a second time. Self-assured, strong-willed. That was no timid knock. Duo positioned himself at one side of the door, Heero at the other. With a nod from the other, Duo opened the door--not by much, just enough to see who it was.

He met a black veiled sunhat with a matching black trench coat.

"Are you going to invite me in, Duo Maxwell?"

He frowned. The voice was one he should recognize, but, for the life of him, couldn't place. He stepped back and opened to door for her--it was definitely a female. Surreptitiously, he shot a quick look towards Heero; the other pilot still held his gun.

"Ah, good," she said, removing her black gloves to reveal finely cured hands. "Heero Yuy." She looked up, lifting the veil. "Just the person I was hoping to find."

Heero stepped forward; Duo stepped back, relaxing his hold in his gun--still ready at a moment's notice, though. He didn't have to wait long for that moment.

"Dorothy Catalonia," Heero replied, one firm hand against the door shutting it behind her.

She reached up to remove her hat, smiling down the barrel of the gun Duo held to her. She pulled at a pin that held up her hair; the long, blonde strands unfurled behind her. "Ah! Much better." She turned away from Duo and any threat he might have posed for her and smiled at Heero. "Now, onto business."

She folded her hands in front of her with her hat and clip. "Heero Yuy. I have a proposition for you."

 

 

"So you're going to take her up on it?" Duo asked as he set a plate of his newest culinary exploration before his kiobito. 'Kiobito,' it was a new word he'd assigned to Heero. He liked it. Heero didn't seem to mind either if last night was any indication.

Heero looked from his plate to Duo's face. The tiny smile there made him wonder if the food was safe. "Hai, for a little bit, at least," he answered as Duo took his own seat next to him. He poked the food cautiously with his fork. "Duo, what is this?"

"Huh? Oh, chicken teriyaki and yellow Spanish rice," the braided youth answered, already digging into his. "How long do you think you'll be gone?"

"It shouldn't take too long," Heero replied, tasting his dinner. Mmm, not bad. "If what Dorothy says is true, then they aren't completely incompetent."

Duo pushed some rice across his plate with a fork, mulling. "Ne, Heero?"

"Hmm?" Bright violet-blue eyes turned up to him, and Heero felt a quickening in his being. Tiny shivers racing up and down his body as he was reminded how much he loved this man beside him, and what a miracle that was.

"Do you think you'll be back by Christmas?" Duo asked, chewing on his inside lip.

Heero frowned. "Why?"

"Well..." Duo set his fork down. "I was kinda hoping, you know, we could, make something out of it, you know? Our first Christmas? Our own private celebration...?" He shot the other pilot a *look* that told Heero just what kind of 'celebrating' Duo had in mind.

Heero's frown melted into a knowing smile. "Hai, I think that is a definite."

Duo grinned. "Good. It's a date then."

 

 

 

 

**In the Pale Moonlight by Andrea Readwolf**

**Part 2 Act FOUR**

 

~Act IV~

Sometimes it was impossible to find--a tiny place removed from the others where he could just sit or lay down and look up at the stars. He could stay like that for hours, turning over the thoughts in his head. After the first couple of times, no one came after him to bring him home. They all knew he'd return before he was needed again.

Tonight was no different from other nights.

Sometime after dark, instead of joining the others for dinner or conversation, he headed out back towards a small woods. Near a large outcropping of rocks, he'd found a spot of fresh, clean grass and laid down, pillowing his head on his upturned palms as he gaze up into an unobtrusive view of space.

It was his training--that part that allowed his mind to split, to be in two places at once--that allowed him to be aware of the other's approach long before he came into view. It was skill that told him who it was.

"Do you always separated yourself from the others?" a soft, slightly nasal voice asked after standing five feet away from him in silence for several minutes.

"Not always," Trowa answered. He tilted his head to the side and looked up at the young, intense man. "Why have you found me?"

Not "how did you find me?" No, it wouldn't be hard for the other to follow a traveling circus, now would it? Not even, "Hi, how are you? Haven't seen you in half a year. You look good." No. There were no... useless civilities between them. There never had been.

"May I?" Heero returned, nodding toward the ground near Trowa. The prone teen didn't answer, just returned his gaze to the stars ahead. For Heero, that was answer enough and the Japanese teen dropped into a comfortable, cross-legged sit next to Trowa.

"I won't believe you left Duo just to come sit under the stars with me, Heero," the cinnamon-haired teen told him after a good five minutes of silent stargazing. Trowa rolled onto his side, propping up an arm and a leg, and *looked* at the quiet teen sitting there. "What is it you need?"

"Can't an old friend drop in on an old friend?" Heero asked calmly, a tiny smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Not when that 'old friend' happens to be a gundam pilot dropping in on another gundam pilot," Trowa replied evenly. "I've never known you to avoid something, Heero."

"I'm not avoiding," Heero returned, his voice soft. He continued to stare up into the sky and, without having to look, Trowa knew the other was looking in the direction of L2. "Just taking some time out to think."

"How is 03?" he asked with the next breath.

"Safe," Trowa replied.

"Have you made any modifications to the suit?"

Trowa stared at him, expressionless, before admitting, "Some."

"Why?"

The question surprised Trowa--though you wouldn't know it to look at him. When he didn't answer--he didn't know *what* the answer was--Heero embellished his question.

"Gundam is a machine made for mass murder. The war is over. Why make modifications on a machine that is no longer needed?"

Trowa leaned back down and returned to looking up. The colonies of L1 were beginning to rise. For another minute or two, neither teen said a word, and then Trowa asked, "And has Zero remained unmodified, too?"

Searing blue eyes met, clashed, held with flashing green. They both knew Wing Zero was as "unmodified" as HeavyArms.

"You've been watching the newsfeeds."

"Of course."

"Relena Darlian is still in the colonies."

"She has thrown her support into a new rehabitation project to help the homeless and war orphans." Trowa looked back to Heero. "Sounds like a good idea."

Heero nodded. "It is. It's Duo's--he thought of it. He's heading up the first project site in L2." Heero watched Trowa carefully. "With Relena's political support comes WEI's financial support. With her and Quatre, it will succeed."

No response.

"I saw Quatre."

"That's nice." Polite, but distanced.

Heero frowned. "He looks like hell," he told the other teen. After another minute he asked, "Are you sure what you're doing is right? You don't look much better."

Trowa rolled over and stood up in one graceful movement. "I didn't ask you for advice," he reminded the other teen coolly.

"I wasn't offering any." Heero continued to frown, though.

"You still haven't told me why you followed me out here, Heero," Trowa reminded him.

Heero looked at the other boy's back. There was more than he was privy to going on here. "Why did you keep the name 'Trowa'?" he asked, curious. "You told me before you were ~Nanashi~."

There was a small pause.

"I was tired of being a NoName," Trowa answered, looking into the darkness of the woods. It wasn't very deep. He could see the lights bouncing off the circus tents on the other side. "And the people I am living with now are comfortable with 'Trowa'."

Heero though in silence for another minute. "You weren't the original pilot of 03."

Trowa was silent.

"The original pilot was Trowa Barton?"

The tall boy nodded. "He... met with a fatal accident before Gundam could be launched. I offered to fulfill the vacancy he left behind."

"But you were just a mechanic," Heero frowned. "A gundam scientist allowed a no-name to pilot Gundam."

Trowa didn't, couldn't, deny it. "I was qualified."

"What do you know about the original mission of Operation Meteor?"

Trowa turned to faced Heero, his face harder, colder than just its normal expressionlessness. "The idea was to drop a colony on the unsuspecting Earth. A second attack would follow in form of Gundam. To ensure that at least one machine was built successfully, the five original creators of the mobile suit were separated and sent to the five different LaGrange points.

"Gundam was to dominate whatever remained after the colony-drop. Complete genocide."

Heero nodded.

"He had a big mouth," Trowa confided, dropping to a sit near Heero. The other shot him a questioning look. "I think he was trying to... impress me. He would have made a terrible gundam pilot."

Heero looked sad for a moment as a new thought came to him. He reached over and touched Trowa's cheek. "Him too?" he asked softly.

Trowa looked away, not answering.

"I'm sorry."

"There is nothing for you to apologize for."

They fell into another silence, each trapped in their own webs of thought. "Is that why you left Quatre?"

Trowa stiffened but didn't answer.

Heero felt like heaving one of those big, over-done, stage-sighs Duo liked to give.

"I, always... wanted to ask you..." he began again, somewhat hesitantly. "Why?" Trowa looked at him, eyes cold as ice, and Heero clarified. "That first time, when Dr. J brought me with him to L3, and you were there...? And then, again, last year. Why?"

It was Trowa's turn to reach out and touch Heero's cheek. "Because you are beautiful, and have a kind soul. Because I sensed in you a kindred spirit; someone who could understand me, who knew what I have seen and lived; and I wanted to give you something."

Heero's frown increased. "You didn't owe me anything."

Trowa's fingers continued to brush Heero's cheek. "I wanted to."

The other boy seemed to accept this finally and moved on to the matters that had followed him there to this spot. "Ex-White Fang and –Oz soldiers have been busy."

Trowa pulled away. "I noticed."

"The new government is defenseless against them."

"Only if they choose not to defend themselves."

"They'll flounder."

"It's not our place to protect them." A tiny wrinkle formed between his brows as Trowa frowned. "We can't do anything for them."

"Not yet."

"No, not yet," the taller pilot agreed. "Gundam should not get involved unless it is absolutely necessary. And even then..."

Heero nodded. "We are agreed then."

Those words replayed in Trowa's mind three months later as he watched the Head of the Preventers cross the circus grounds in a direct beeline towards him.

 

 

"Colonial Trillionaire, Quatre Raberba Winner, to marry former Queen of the World, Relena Peacecraft Darlian," the blond young man read with a flourish.

In front of him, the young woman on the halo-screen was too busy laughing to reply despite several attempts. Quatre folded up the news clipping that one of his sisters had sent him, and placed it to the side of his desk.

"If this is a new method of proposing, Quatre," Relena said, wiping the tears from her eyes, "I must confess, I find it *highly* amusing!"

"Oh? So that means you *won't* marry me, Miss Darlian?" His blue eyes were twinkling with amusement. "Won't the tabloids be *crushed*!" He took of sip of iced water. "Mn. It's a shame. That would have been one *smashing* party."

"Oh, yes, indeed," Relena laughed. "Could you just *imagine* trying to schedule a date?"

"We would *have* to give at least five years advanced warning, just to ensure both our schedules were free," Quatre was quick to reply.

"And the guest list!"

"We'd just have to rent an entire colony for the reception."

"And it would cost an absolutely *fortune*!"

"Ah, but our children would be the most powerful people in the entire Earth Sphere!"

Relena paused and looked at him. "A most *dangerous* coupling, if you ask me."

Quatre wore an almost... *wolfish* grin. "I most *highly* agree, Ms. Darlian."

"So it's agreed then," Relena said in her 'I mean business' tone of voice. "We cannot *possibly* get married."

"Not even remotely."

Relena sighed and fell back into her chair, the joviality of the moment pushed aside by the weight of the world--or, rather, the weight of the colonies. "I don't mind telling you again, Quatre, but I will be so *relieved* when these talks are over. I've never met so many people who are all so needy and yet so unwilling to accept aid."

"They're proud, Relena," Quatre soothed. "That's good. That means they haven't given up hope on life completely yet." He looked off towards an invisible landscape hidden in his office walls. "It might be harder this way, making them learn to do it themselves, but it's better."

" 'No one said that doing what's right is what is easy,'" Relena whispered. "My father used to tell me that, all the time before he went dashing off to a meeting somewhere."

"Mmn. *My* father always told me that I had a responsibility, to my family and to the people of the colonies, to lead by example and protect them."

"I think you've done a very good job doing just that, Quatre," Relena told him softly.

The blond young man sighed. "I wish I could agree with you."

"Quatre! You've *got* to be joking!" Relena was smiling and shaking her head at him. "Because of *you*, other businesses are willing to take a chance here in L2. WEI has brought work to a great many people, Quatre!"

"That's because WEI has its fingers in everyone else's pie," Quatre grimaced.

"I don't envy you your job," Relena admitted.

Quatre smiled back at her. "I don't envy *you* *yours*."

The two young Earth Sphere leaders lapsed into a comfortable silence.

"Lady Une has been recruiting members for the Preventers," Relena mused aloud.

"Oh? Good. I'm glad," Quatre replied. "This government needs *some* form of protection. I'm glad the President and other Council members agreed."

"Mmm." Another silence, and then, "Quatre? Would *you* consider joining the Preventers? I mean, after all, you *were* a soldier, a Gundam pilot."

The blonde boy looked at first startled, and then sad. "No, Relena," he answered softly, his voice full of regret. "I... wish it were so easy, and that I could, but..." His blue eyes closed and he bowed his head. "If I wasn't the head of WEI, if I wasn't a gundam pilot... *then* I wouldn't *hesitate* to join, you understand. But..." and he looked up at her. "Because I *am*, I cannot."

"No," Relena was frowning, "I don't understand."

Quatre smiled and fell back into his chair. "It's politics, Relena. That would be throwing too much power into one organization and it would look more like *I* was trying to take over the government rather than protect it. I can't do any more for the Preventers than support them as WEI. The gundams must be left out of it."

The honey-wheat-haired woman frowned. "There's been talk... about the gundams," she admitted.

Quatre's smile turned rueful. "I would have been surprised if there wasn't."

"Quatre..." She watched him closely, watching for a response. "It's going to be a year soon... Our first year of peace..." She hesitated. "Are... the gundams needed anymore?" Nervously she licked her lips. "Almost all the remaining mobile suits have been destroyed or refitted--except the gundams. No one can agree what to do with them..."

'But everyone seems to have a solution,' they both added in their thoughts.

He was silent.

"Quatre... are the... gundams... really necessary anymore?"

She didn't know what else to say and the silence the rose up between them was suffocating.

"I have... thought often on the matter myself," the blond boy whispered after another long moment, not looking at her or anything in particular, but in his mind, he saw Sandrock. He saw the other gundam suits and their pilots--and his heart, that muscle he'd thought he'd deadened to all pain in these past months, clenched painfully.

"Quatre..."

He forced a smile to his face and looked up at her. "Perhaps, as part of the celebrations, we could... destroy the gundams or something. A promise of peace and good intentions."

"Oh, Quatre!"

It was hard to tell which emotion held dominance in her--pain for the pain her friend was obviously feeling, or joy at his understanding at what peace needed and asked of him.

"I can't promise that... the others... will agree, you understand," he rushed to tell her.

"I understand," she whispered, her blue eyes shimmering with tears. "Quatre... thank you."

He looked at her, and offhandedly realized his heart was breaking again--twice in less than a year; this time for the large silver and white machine that had protected him throughout the war and allowed him to protect others. And suddenly, he longed terribly for those days of the war, when everything was so much simpler.

 

 

The young woman took the coffee mug he handed her, gratefully, with a soft "thank you." She still wasn't used to the chill of space, she realized as she studied the milky blackened liquid.

He didn't reply--it wasn't necessary--as he took a seat on one of the overturned hay bales. It was neither close nor far from the one she sat on. A comfortable distance of four feet.

"I meant to... talk to you," she began, holding the mug in both hands. She looked up at him with vulnerable eyes. It wasn't a look he liked on her. "Back on MOII," she clarified. "But things were... so crazy. I--"

"I understand," he answered, facing her but not looking at her.

She looked away, her grey eyes downcast, and tucked a piece of mouse-brown hair back behind one ear. "I'm sorry," she whispered on a near-silent breath.

He didn't have to ask what for. "It was a long time ago."

"That doesn't change anything." Her voice was a soft as his, despite the wealth of emotions underneath.

He didn't continue to argue with her. There was no point.

"I'm... glad... you survived," she said after an uncomfortable moment. "I... thought of you."

"There was no need to." It was eerie how... stoic his voice was. "I lived, I moved on." He looked at her then, his dark green eyes pinning her with an intensity that betrayed his voice. "So did you."

"Yes..." she swallowed. "We lived." Her eyes swept over him, comparing what she saw before her to the image she had carried around with her for years. "I didn't recognize you at first."

"You weren't yourself when we met again."

She smiled and looked at her hands in her lap. "You mean I was 'crazy' at the time," she replied.

His visible green eye seemed to swirl with color. "Not crazy," he rebuked, his voice gentle. He reached out and touched her jaw. "I'm glad you lived, Middi."

"Anne," she corrected with a sad smile. "Middi is actually my mother's family name. Please call me Anne."

He nodded. "Anne."

"Then... you've forgiven me?" she asked, hopeful.

He pulled his hand away and looked off towards the lion cages. "You were only following orders... Anne."

"Those orders resulted in your friends being killed," she countered.

The thought briefly of the men who had... raised him. "I had no friends there."

"Trowa, I--" She still thought of him as that little boy, Nanashi, she had met so many years ago...She sighed and resisted the urge to shake her head. She'd come here now for a reason. "You were always good at what you do."

"You mean killing people?" She missed the hint of amusement in his voice.

"No! I mean, understanding people, seeing the truth behind their masks," she hastily corrected. "There were days... days I was *sure* you could see right through me... That you knew why I was really there..."

"I did." She stared at him, startled, confused. One shoulder rose and fell in a little, half-shrug. "But I wanted to believe you, so I convinced myself I was wrong." He looked directly at her, his harsh gaze burning into her. "So you see, I am even more responsible for their deaths."

She didn't know what to say to that.

"When I realized it was you," she said softly, staring cautiously at him, "I wondered if you'd found me in order to kill me."

He didn't say or do anything to deny it.

Nervously, Anne licked her lips and cleared her throat. "And then I remembered the reports about the gundam pilot being a 'child'." She studied him for any reaction. She didn't know what to expect--even before, he'd never been one to be very... open about his emotions. But since then... it was like he didn't have any emotions or feelings to express at all.

"You accepted my application believing I might have been an enemy spy?"

Anne shook her head and offered a weak smile. "No, *hoping* you were." She looked down into her cooling coffee. "Master Treize was already changing the rules by which we were playing. Things changed when he... lost Zechs Marquise... and then, Romerfeller was becoming more vocal in how OZ was being run. You see, Master Treize had been given a free hand where the Organization of the Zodiac was concerned, but it was only meant to be Romerfeller's puppet. His Excellency was powerful, however, and held influence over the soldiers under him... which could easily overthrow Romerfeller just as it had the former Federation Alliance.

"Duke Dormail understood the threat that represented and tried to force His Excellency's hand. He underestimated Master Treize. As you know, he resigned as OZ's leader, casting the organization into a division of loyalties."

Anne smoothed out an invisible wrinkle from her plain blue-grey suit-skirt, and then looked up. He was watching her intently, and she was relieved to know that she at least had his attention. "His Excellency was... fascinated by Gundam and its pilots. He respected the soldiers who fought against such unbeatable odds, and won. He always restrained my hand when dealing with them... with you. I didn't understand why until later, when I came to space as an OZ representative."

"And what did you understand?" Trowa asked, his voice showing only polite interest.

Her eyes searched his face, wondering if his question was even remotely sincere, but then deciding it didn't matter. Anne straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. "His Excellency wanted you to win. Not space or the colonies against Earth. *You*. Gundam and its pilots. He knew, before any of us, that you were fighting for what was right and good--not just for space and the colonies."

"But we *were* fighting for the colonies," he calmly reminded her.

Anne smiled and, slowly, shook her head. "Mmnn. If that was true, then you would have joined with White Fang against the Earth Sphere troops, and not the other way around."

He didn't deny it. He couldn't.

"So you've come to space to ask my forgiveness and explain Treize Khushrenada's motives during the war."

Anne's smile softened. "And Nicholas thought you didn't have a sense of humor," she said into her coffee cup.

"Nicholas didn't like me much."

"No, he was convinced you were a spy."

"He was right."

Anne's eyes twinkled as she looked up at him. "I know. That's just one of the reasons I never dismissed him for his insubordination." She sighed. "And you're right. I came here to ask you to become an agent for the Preventers. I know it's selfish for me to ask you, but we could really use your help and expertise. With your skill and talent we--"

"No."

"What?" She blinked, jerking back with the short, cold answer.

"No." Trowa stood. "I'm sorry, Anne. I can't help you or the Preventers."

"You can--but, Trowa--?"

He nodded goodbye to her and then turned and walked away, not once looking back.

 

 

He was in hiding.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. If he was *really* in hiding, no one would be able to find him, and right now, if anyone *really* wanted to, they could reach him in at least three different ways...

No, he wasn't really in hiding, but he had needed to get away. Away from WEI, away from his sisters, away from his life--a death trap he'd looked up one day to realize he was in.

And what better place to retreat to than his beloved Sandrock?

Only... he wouldn't have this luxury soon... Not if what he'd talked with Relena about came to pass. Quatre couldn't imagine his life without the indestructible mobile suit. Or, more appropriately, he didn't want to.

But he knew Relena had a point. The gundams weren't needed anymore... there was no reason to keep them and every reason to destroy them...

What would the others think about that...? What would they say....?

In the last year, the only one he'd seen with regularity was Heero--and the normally quiet boy had even less to say to him now that he was working for Relena's security.

Quatre sighed. For the first time in nearly a year, the blond boy wanted to reach out and *touch* the other pilots; to feel their presence, their stolid comforting being, near him... to feel *outside of himself*... and he dropped his tightly held guard and allowed himself to *feel*...

Quatre Raberba Winner was special. He had a... sensitivity... for the world around him. He could... *sense* others... their emotions or intentions, sometimes even their thoughts. On rare occasions, by sheer will alone, the blond boy could make things happen.

But no gift came without a curse. The sensitive blonde was prone to powerful migraines that had left him unconscious on occasions. If someone was hurting, Quatre easily picked up on the sufferer's pain, and worse, suffered with them. It was just one reason why the boy hating hurting anyone. It always hurt worse, knowing he'd *caused* another pain.

There had only been one time in his whole remembrance that Quatre *hadn't* hurt from the death surrounding him---that had been when he'd used Wing ZERO to destroy a colony. Quatre didn't know if that was due to ZERO's influence or because he was already so filled with pain and rage at the time... Quatre didn't like to think often about that time.

The blond boy didn't know how to use his gift--he didn't understand it very well. He only knew it was a part of him, and always there. Sometimes he could feel it more strongly than others. Growing up, his father had always stressed "acting normal". Normal children didn't have special powers like Quatre did, so in an effort to please his father, Quatre learned to repress his gift. That couldn't stop certain occurrences from happening though--especially if the blond boy was overly emotional for some reason.

Mr. Winner just didn't understand his son's sensitivity. The two were cut from a different cloth. Now, a year after his death, Quatre could understand that and forgive his father for transgressions the boy hadn't even been aware he held against the man. He had loved the man so much--desperately. He had desperately craved to be loved in return. It was something Mr. Winner hadn't been able to give him.

There were only four other persons who outshone Quatre's affections for his father. Most especially, one...

Sitting in Sandrock's cockpit, drifting out in the emptiness of space, Quatre shed the layers of walls he'd built around himself and opened his heart to the world beyond.

It was like being hit by a tsunami. He gulped down a large breath, forcing his suddenly racing pulse to calm. After a moment, he was able to focus more intently and ease the roiling emotions and thoughts surrounding him into a low, controllable din. It took another moment before he could feel it--that steady throb of life.

Even out here, in the emptiness of space, he could feel it. It throbbed in rhythm to his own heartbeat. He'd always referred to it as his space heart. Now he centered that energy on his friends.

Heero... Duo... He could feel them... their pleasure and love...

Quatre's breath caught, his entire body washing over in a pleasurable, fiery rush, and the blond boy pulled back quickly before he followed them into an orgasm. He was panting inside the solitary confinement of Sandrock's cockpit, flushed with excitement and embarrassment. Still... he was happy for his two friends.

'Friends?' a tiny voice mocked. 'You haven't even seen Duo in a year, and you barely even talk to Heero--how can you call them your friends?'

Quatre leaned his head back against the headrest, smiling as he recovered his breathing. 'They are all still my friends, though we can't be together as often as I would like... That is partially my fault too...'

Together as often... Heero had mentioned something about no one knowing where Wufei was. Now, after his pulse had calmed and his breathing had evened out, he turned his attention towards the Chinese pilot, reaching out to brush against the other boy's presence.

He was surprised when he found his path blocked. It was like the other boy was wrapped tightly in a protective cocoon, cut off from the rest of the world. Quatre frowned. He couldn't break through the shield, he didn't know how and didn't know what that might do to Wufei. He'd encountered something similar when the other boy was meditating and Quatre left him alone with only the reassurance that the other pilot was alive.

Finally, the blond boy turned his gift towards the last member of their team... He reached out to touch the soul of the boy who had stolen his heart.

Sadness. Loneliness. A faint hint of pain.

Quatre clutched at his chest, two tears falling over his cheeks.

"Trowa....."

 

 

Trowa was in the hanger where Heavyarms was secured. The song Heero had given him--compliments from Duo--on the mysterious boy's last visit pumped out from the gundam's speakers. Duo had meant the song--a little ditty titled "Cathy's Clown"--to be some kind of joke, of course, but Trowa found he sort of liked the song... even if his sister didn't.

The circus had returned to the colonies again as, Catherine explained, it did every fall. Earth during the holiday season wasn't very much in the mood for a circus. Trowa didn't mind. Although he spent a majority of his life on Earth, the young gundam pilot liked space. Plus it allowed him plenty of time to work on his mobile suit. Currently, he was trying to adjust the gundam's... weight problem.

If his modifications were correct, then the heavy mobile suit would be as maneuverable as a paperclip--a vast improvement over what he'd had to work with a year ago. Of course, he had no way of testing his modifications--there was no place in the colonies big enough with enough gravitational force that was unpopulated to boot, and Trowa had no inclination to ship the gundam down to Earth just to test it.

With any luck, he wouldn't ever need to use the modifications... but experience had taught the boy to hope for the best, while expecting the worse. It was a resolution that left little to surprise him.

Trowa sighed, hanging his hands over the railing, crossed at the wrists, and resting his head against his arms. The last time he'd talked to Heero, the other boy had filled him in on some things.

For one, Duo's orphanage was almost complete. Trowa was happy for the braided boy and his lover. They had both worked hard to achieve their goal.

For another, it seemed Wufei was missing--something that he shared Heero's concern about. It wasn't good for a gundam pilot to be *missing*--especially from another gundam pilot. But, then again... if the boy didn't want to be found, then there was nothing Heero or he could do about it.

And, lastly, "Quatre..."

With Heero's new position as chief of security for Relena's personal troop of bodyguards, the Japanese boy was in constant contact with the blond business man... and he just *had* to share any information with Trowa.

He'd asked the other pilot *why* he insisted on talking about the blond, blue-eyed boy. Heero had looked right at him and said, "He's a gundam pilot, too, Trowa."

Trowa didn't feel like arguing with Heero. It didn't help that the golden boy dominated his nights... but now he couldn't even avoid him during his day.

Heero obviously thought Trowa was wrong in staying away from Quatre--but he hadn't said anything on the matter since that first visit months ago. Trowa was grateful for that at least.

Quatre... The blond boy was amazing. From the very first, Trowa had been taken with him, confused by him. There was just... something... about... him... Trowa didn't know what it was. No other person had touched him that deeply. He didn't understand it, and it scared him.

Why? After almost a year? Why was the other boy's memory still haunting him...

It had been a mistake. He realized that from the first. He should have never slept with the blond, blue-eyed boy. That night in San Francisco... It had been wrong. If he'd bothered to pay more attention to the other boy, he would have realized that, instead of acting on rote.

But... no one had every offered him something before without ever expecting anything in return... And... what with his staying with the blond boy at his desert home while the boy's people fixed his suit for him... and then, meeting in San Francisco like that, and the boy offering to share his room...

He had thought... He had thought wrong, that's what he had thought.

It was so completely different. Trowa hadn't been prepared for it.

At first... he'd believed... he'd thought... He was prepared to sleep on the couch, out in the common area of the rich suite. But then... Quatre had looked hurt and offered the bed.

"There's plenty of room. It's a big bed," the boy had said, and Trowa had known...

Or, rather... he had *thought* he'd known... he'd been wrong... but that couldn't be changed now. He'd done what he thought... He'd striped and gone to the bed, and waited. He knew what to expect.

He thought he knew what to expect.

There had been stunned silence. When the other boy didn't... *do* anything... Trowa looked up over at him, wondering... Why?

His blond prince was staring at him, and Trowa worried he'd done something wrong. Perhaps the boy preferred to undress him himself? But, slowly, Quatre had smiled at him and asked, "Do you always sleep naked, Trowa?"

He'd approached the bed then, staring, not touching. From the look in those bright blue eyes, Trowa had known he hadn't missguessed his purpose for being there that night. Or, he had *thought* he hadn't...

Quatre was breathless when he'd told Trowa how beautiful he was. Trowa didn't argue; he knew it wasn't true, but if that's what the other boy wanted to think, let him.

:::::::: :::::::: :::::::: ::::::::

"May I?" Quatre breathed, reaching out to touch the toasted cream-colored skin and hesitating.

Trowa looked at him, confused at why he'd asked permission, but nodded anyway.

It was like electricity.

Quatre's fingertips, brushing over his middle, spreading out until his entire hand rested against Trowa's stomach. Trowa gasped at the contact. Quatre murmured his name, those blue eyes of his drifting shut as he seemed to concentrate on the touch. A pool of lava seemed to originate out of that touch and spread like wildfire all throughout Trowa's body. He was caught up in it, drowning in it---and all from just one little touch.

"Trowa..." Quatre breathed before leaning over and brushing his lips over the prone boy.

For the first time in his life, without being told to, Trowa returned someone's kiss. He parted his lips under Quatre's gentle pressure, his tongue swiping out across Quatre's lips. The blond boy moaned, his lips opening for Trowa, and quite suddenly, two bodies were rolling over the bed as mouths mated in a hot, frenzied kiss.

Trowa rode Quatre's thigh as the other boy squeezed his ass, rubbing that leg deliciously against him. He was lost in a haze of never-before-felt desire, and all for the blond boy in his arms. They rolled again until Quatre was on top. Trowa spread his legs for the boy, bringing their hard penises into direct contact. Quatre moaned, Trowa groaned.

"I want you."

"Please."

"I don't have anything."

"I don't care."

Quatre's panting breath was hot and moist against Trowa's ear as the blond boy positioned himself. "I'm sorry," he whispered right before he thrust forward, filling Trowa with his burning sex. They screamed--it was like the act hurt the blond boy more than it did Trowa.

For moments that seemed to last a lifetime, neither one of them moved, straining against the pounding of desire that urged them on.

He wanted. Oh, stars! He wanted!

"Please... Quatre..."

It was like being flooded. Trowa felt like he was swimming in an ocean of pure emotion. Not just pain or pleasure... so much more. More than he could even begin to understand to explain. When his release came, several minutes later, it was more intense than any he'd experienced until that time. Quatre was right there with him, filling him with his seed... with his love...

:::::::: :::::::: :::::::: ::::::::

Trowa hadn't understood it at the time. He'd thought it a fluke.

When he'd rolled away from the other boy, too confused, too caught up in that new experience to pay attention to the other's desire to cuddle--he wasn't used to cuddling after copulations--Quatre had been upset.

"I'm sorry, Trowa," he'd immediately apologized. "I didn't mean to hurt you. Would you like me to get you some painkillers? Or some soothing lotion?"

"I'm fine," he had told the boy--which only succeeded in making the blond feel more hurt, but that was the truth. Trowa had suffered much worse from other copulations. At least he wasn't bleeding... or, at least, not too badly.

Trowa had sat up, intending to return back to the couch now, but Quatre was suddenly near hysterical, apologizing and, Trowa realized, crying.

"I'm sorry, Trowa, I didn't mean--I mean, I didn't want--Oh, Allah! I'm sorry, Trowa, I'm so sorry! Please--"

Stunned, Trowa had turned to the boy, wrapping him up in his arms to try and stop, or at least calm, the other boy's crying. He wasn't able to understand much from the other boy's babbling, but from what he had, he'd realized he'd again misjudged the blond boy. He'd managed to calm the other boy and reassure him by agreeing to hold Quatre. The blond soon fell asleep, and Trowa had followed him, feeling even more confused.

The next morning, they'd done it again. Trowa had convinced himself it *had* been a fluke... but it wasn't. Although their technique was less hurried in the morning, it was no less intense. And with that intensity came the strong desire to *protect* the blond boy!

And that was just utterly ridiculous! After all, Quatre was a *Gundam* pilot! He didn't *need* protecting...

He decided he needed to be away from the other boy. It was just as well for him to follow Wufei after that disastrous mission. And it gave him a chance to test one of his theories. Trowa wondered if it was *Quatre*... or just himself... If, maybe, something in *him* had changed... Something that made sex all of a sudden, *incredibly* pleasurable.

He used Wufei, yes, but with benefits to them both. The Chinese pilot was emotionally beaten after his... encounter with the leader of OZ. Sex was a very powerful weapon... and tool. And if the other pilot wasn't completely himself again when he left Trowa's circus early the next moment, he was no longer suicidal, either.

And, Trowa had his answer.

Sex with Wufei had been good. Better than sex had normally been. So something in him *had* changed.

But...

It was nowhere *near* as spectacular as it had been with Quatre.

Trowa found himself making excuses to visit the blond boy. It wasn't often they'd get missions together... And then, when the scientists were taken... it was a period when no missions were coming in at all. And that was fine, because, at the time, Trowa was busy helping Heero mend. Trowa didn't tell Quatre that Heero was still alive. He didn't want to other to hurt if the Japanese boy never woke up.

But Heero did wake up. And then they'd all gone to space. And they'd all come together for a brief time before separating again.

Trowa would have been sure the time apart would have made a difference. But then, at the time, Trowa had amnesia... It didn't matter. Their time apart didn't make the feelings the other boy caused in him to go away or lessen... If anything, they grew. Trowa would have stopped it then and there... If he could've. If he hadn't convinced himself that there wasn't a point, since he probably wouldn't be living past the end of the war anyway.

But he did.

And suddenly, he couldn't run anymore. He had to face the truth.

And the truth was--he cared too much about the blond boy than was possible or safe. The truth was, he'd become too attached to the blond boy. The truth was, he'd deceived himself into thinking he could handle the affections and attachments Quatre wanted from him.

The Truth was... he was terrified.

Trowa had always known his body wasn't his own... but he'd thought he'd at least had *some* claim on his heart and soul.

That was... until he'd crawled into Quatre Raberba Winner's bed one night, and woke up the next morning to discover the blond boy really did 'have it all'.

 

 

Quatre ended the recording and fell back into his executive chair, drained. Absently, he pulled at his lip with a forefinger and thumb, just staring at the space in front of him. Right there in front of him was the little button that would send his recording across space to the other four gundam pilots.

In his head, the words of the recording played themselves over and over.

"Hello," Quatre smiled--that soft, almost shy smile of his. "I hope this finds you all well." And then his face had hardened into the one his associates were more accustomed to. "As I record this, I am sure you are already aware of the preparations for the one year celebration of the end of the war. As a silent part of the festivities, I have procured a shuttlecraft." He'd paused, his next words tasting rancid in his mouth. "I intend to send Sandrock into the sun." Again, another pause as he stared directly at the viewer. "There... is... enough room on the GMG for four more." He'd swallowed and cleared his throat. "Attached are the coordinates where the GMG is docked. I..." His face softened again. "I hope to soon you all again."

End Recording.

Short. Precise. No flowery, flowingly emotional comments.

They had been some of the hardest words to say in all of his young life.

The decision to send Sandrock into the sun was not an easy one, and one that had haunted him for the last six weeks. And now---

Quatre hit 'SEND' before he could second guess himself.

At almost exactly the same moment, his intercom buzzed. Quatre jumped.

"Yes, Angela?" he called, clearing his throat.

"Sir, I'm sorry to disturb you, but there's a young lady on the phone asking for you."

"Who?"

"She wouldn't give me her name, sir, but she looks like one of your sisters."

"I understand. Please put her through." Some of his sisters had been calling and teasing his secretaries. He could already guess who it was--

Any guess would have been wrong.

"Hello, Quatre Raberba Winner," the short, spiky-haired blonde woman greeted him the second their lines connected.

"Miss Behr," he quickly recovered. "What can I do for you?"

He could see how Angela could believe Blaire Behr was one of his sisters--her coloring was that of all the Winner siblings, and even her features were much like his own. He wondered why he hadn't noticed before--other than that there was a war going on at the time.

"You can meet me at these coordinates." His printer flared to life. "At the specified time and date."

He glanced over the hot sheet of paper before returning his look to her. "And the reason?"

"You may bring whomever you like, but I would bring only someone you would trust your life to," she said, ignoring his question. "We await you at the Sands."

" 'We'?" he asked. " 'The Sands'?" But the connection had already been broken.

Quatre stared at the space where the halo-image had been, rocking back and forth in his chair, thinking. After about five minutes, he made his decision.

 

 

 

 

**In the Pale Moonlight by Andrea Readwolf**

**Part 3 Act FOUR**

 

~Act IV~

~~~Everything was perfect. It was a wonderful wet and rainy day and she was walking through it with her Mommy and her Daddy, swinging from their arms. Mommy was smiling at her, her beautiful white dress glimmering in the dark rain. Daddy was smiling at her, looking very handsome in his uniform. The click of their heels against the pavement echoed with her tiny feet splashing into puddles. Her laughter rose up and melded with theirs...

"Be good, my darling, and one day you will travel to Earth," her Mommy said, kneeling down beside her. She brushed a kiss over her cheek and then pulled away. "We must go now. You must be strong for me, my darling."

"No! Mommy! Please don't leave me!" she cried, reaching up for the beautiful woman, only belatedly realizing she'd dropped her father's hand and now he stepped away too. "Daddy!"

"Be strong, little one," his voice told her, those smooth, cultured tones warming her, soothing her. "Be strong..."~~~

The petite redheaded child sniffled and curled in around her pillow, hiding her tears in its soft, cottony texture.

"Mommy... Daddy..."

 

 

The cold water was more like frozen as it washed over his head and shoulders, down his body to the pool at his ankles. Though his body shivered, he did not move. The water rushing over him felt good--felt like it was washing his spirit clean. He could stay like that for hours. In fact, he had.

When the old man called to him, he wanted to ignore him, but the old man was not one to be ignored.

"You should come out now," the giant bald man called above the rushing falls. "I have prepared some tea."

Two onyx eyes blinked open and Wufei looked over at him. Master O was standing at the edge of the pond, arms folded behind his back, face impassive, watching him. They stood like that, staring at one another for several minutes... until O nodded. Wufei stepped out from under the falls and waded across the small pool of mountain water. O held out a robe for the young man and then turned away to head back towards the retreat.

Wufei wrapped the warm cloth around his naked, shivering body and then followed his former sensei. Neither man said a word as they sat down at the simple, low wooden table where two porcelain teacups waited for them.

"You have been searching for answers," O said after the young serving man had placed rice cakes at their table and left them with more tea. "Have you found any yet, Chang Wufei?"

The young man was silent, having nothing he wanted to say to his former sensei.

"Are you still trying to starve yourself?" O continued after a moment of silence. He pushed the plate of rice cakes towards Wufei. "You cannot have a healthy spirit, if you do not have a healthy body."

"I am not hungry," Wufei answered, staring down at his tea.

His long, dark hair was even longer from lack of trimming and from being wet. It hung around his tanned shoulders in drying clumps--but at least it was clean. His face was still shallow, but not starved hollow. His skin, scrubbed clean from the layers of months of grit and grime was a much healthier, darker shade of caramel from the hours he'd spent out in the neighboring fields. The last two months had been good for him, and O nodded in satisfaction.

The boy was recovering, but there was still much damage to be healed. He knew, even before he'd chosen the boy as the pilot of Shenlong, that if he was to survive, then there would be much to face and overcome in the 'afterwards'. Sometimes karma did not wait for the next lifetime. Sometimes a person lived more than one life in the span of only years. This he anticipated with his young prodigy.

This was why he searched the boy out. This was why he had brought the boy here, back to Earth. Back to his native country.

He forced the boy into a routine, one which Wufei fell into readily, with little resistance. It was like the boy was begging to be told what to do. Osiris understood that need. It was a need to not have to think for oneself. If you were told to sit, you sat; told to eat, you ate; told to mediate, you let your mind go blank.

Only... after so much blankness... thoughts began to form... began to bubble up and make themselves known. That was the true catharsis of mediation. It healed by forcing thoughts to simplify. So much more than that. If only given enough time...

But Osiris didn't know how much time they had. He could see that Wufei was already healing--but there was so much the boy had to deal with. The loss of his wife, his family, his home... the loss of his sense of purpose. He tried to help the boy, but there was only so much he could do for him.

O pushed the plate of rice cakes towards Wufei again. This time, the boy took one.

 

 

"Thanks, H," Garret said, looking over the coordinates again. "Are you sure she's there?"

"No," the other man replied across the viewscreen, tweaking one end of a mustache between his fingers. "But that is were she could be last located. It is your best chance."

"Thanks again. G out." The view-screen faded to black.

"She might not want to talk to you, you know," Howard mentioned, moving a piece on the game board. Garret didn't reply. "I'm heading down over to the bar again tonight. You wanna come?" No answer. "Hey, Gary? You okay?"

"Do you ever have regrets?" the younger brother asked, sitting on the couch, staring at the blank view-screen.

Howard's hand hovered over the game board. "Regrets?" He made a move. "Sure, I've had some, I suppose. Why do you ask?"

"Do you ever regret not getting married or having a family or living a normal life?" Garret questioned.

"Normal? Bah! Normality's just a symptom of Mediocrity, and I hate being mediocre," his brother answered. Howard folded his hands, elbows resting on the table, and looked at his brother. "What's this all about, Garret? You having regrets over something?"

"I just... wonder what things would be like if it had been different..."

"Different how?"

"I don't know... if I had gotten married... had children..."

"Sam did that," Howard pointed out. "And look what it got him. Practically the same boat as you."

Garret was silent for a moment. "Did you... ever think about getting married, Howard?"

"What? An old confirmed bachelor like me?" Howard sat up and returned his attention to his game. "What would I want to go do a thing like that for?"

"What about Maddie?"

"What about 'er?" Howard moved another piece, watching for the computer's next move and planning his own. "Nice woman. Good woman."

"You ever think about marryin' her?"

Howard realized his mistake too late. "Bonzai" the computer chimed. "Now look at what you've made me do! And why would I want to do a thing like that?" he asked his brother, swiveling in his chair.

"You mean to say you've never thought about getting married? Settling down, raising a bunch of kids or something?" Garret peered at him with that beady look of his.

"I ain't never said that, exactly," Howard replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just, I've always been a busy man, Gar. Not much room in my life for a wife or family, you know?"

"You could have... but you didn't..." Garret looked away, towards the front door. "J was the only one of us, out of all of us... I can't stop wondering why..."

Howard got up and placed a hand on his brother's shoulder and squeeze. "When it's meant to happen, it'll happen. That's all there is to it. You just have to wait for it and keep an open heart."

 

 

He'd been holed up in there for days, refusing to come out, refusing to stop until he could get it all out, get it to make sense. Most of the words were just blurred scribbles on the yellow pages, but at the time of writing, they'd all made sense.

It was a headache, a pain, pressing against his brain, pounding against the walls of his skull, trying to get out. His eyes hurt from the strain; his nose ran unchecked; his lips, dry and cracked despite--or because of--repeated wetting, licking as he pushed onward, trying to get it all out.

By the end of the fourth day, when the Chinese pilot still refused to come out or eat, a servant was sent after Master O.

The scientist pushed open the door without knocking... and felt his heart ache. He felt like he was stepping back into that pigsty from months before. What had happened? He'd thought the boy had been making progress?

Looking around at the burned out puddles of wax, loose sheets of paper everywhere... "This place is disordered. Your father would not be pleased if he were to see this room."

He regretted the words the minute they left his mouth.

"My father," the boy hissed, "is dead. He won't be seeing anything."

Osiris was saddened by those words more. "That is where you are wrong," he replied gently. "Though his body may be dead, that does not mean his spirit does not watch over you." And then he decided, since he'd already gone this far, to twist the blade farther, and force the boy once again to face himself, his fears, his pain, his weakness. "Merien would not approve of this place either."

Papers flew up in the air, a candle tipped over, slipping more wax onto the dirt floor, continuing to burn, as Wufei whirled on the larger man, enraged. "You have no right to speak to me! Not of my wife, or my father, not of anything! Or do you forget? The war is over, Master. You no longer have control over my decisions!"

The young man was panting with his rage and in the light let in through the doorway, Osiris could see the stains of tears left over his cheeks. He wanted to go to the boy, embrace him and tell him he was strong, stronger than he should ever have a reason to be. He wanted to tell him that he was proud of the boy, and that his mother, and his father, and his wife and clan were proud of him, too. But he didn't. He couldn't.

"I have never had control over your actions, Chang Wufei," he told the boy instead. "All I could ever hope to do was influence them."

"Your reign of 'influence' had ended," Wufei snarled, scrubbing the back of his hand across his face and turning away. "There is nothing more I wish to know from you."

"I am sorry to hear that." And he was. There was so much...

"I bet you are."

"Wufei..." There was so much... "I am sorry for your pain and loss, my son," he said finally, knowing the words could never be enough.

"Don't." His body was tensed, quivering from the strain of emotion surging through his spirit with no outlet. "Don't call me 'your son'. And *don't*," he said, turning his face sideways to glare back at the man, "feel sorry for me. It's not too late to finish what should have been done months before and kill you."

"You don't want to kill me--if I thought that, I would let you." Osiris folded his hand in front of him. "You just want to kill your pain. And my death will not achieve that."

Wufei looked back away. "Right now it seems like a very good place to start."

"Then do so and have done with it."

Wufei whirled on the man with a cry of rage. Osiris deflected the attack and those that came after it. Blow after blow, kick after kick, all raining down on him, seeking to attack the pain and suffering, seeking the end. Osiris made all too easy a target for the young man to vent upon.

It seemed like minutes, but was in reality, more like hours, before the last of the young man's reserves gave out and he crumpled to the floor, a heaving heap, spirit lost and broken. Osiris kneeled down before him and placed one large hand over the boy's lowered head and stayed with him until his tears ran dry.

 

 

She sat in the large chair behind the desk kicking her legs happily against the legs. As she sat, she made sure her back was straight, her shoulders back, her head held high, her arms placed perfectly over the chair's arms--just like Dekim had instructed her.

Her studies for the day were complete--a fact that made her extremely happy--and Dekim had promised her a treat. He hadn't told her what it was yet. No, she was to find that out soon, and she could barely stand the excitement.

Her tiny legs froze in mid-swing when the door opened. "Ah! Mariemeia! There you are, good. Now I won't have to send someone out to find you."

The redheaded child smiled up at her grandfather. She knew he would want her here, waiting for him. That's why she was ready and waiting for his arrival. She was happy she'd pleased him. "Yes, Dekim. You said you have a treat for me?"

"A treat?" He frowned until he seemed to remember what she was referring to. "Ah, yes, yes. It seems our Mr. Grayson has finally pulled through, Ms. Mariemeia," Dekim said proudly. "He has located the position of two gundam pilots for us."

"Only two?" It was the wrong thing to have said--she could tell by the look in Dekim's eyes and she hastened to recover her good standing with the older man. "He has had enough time to find *all* of them, has he not?"

Bingo.

"Yes," Dekim agreed sourly. "However, time draws nearer and we must make do with the resources at hand. Five gundams would have been ideal, but for our plans, we need only one."

Mariemeia nodded. "Of course," she answered, only mildly disappointed that she wouldn't get to meet all of her gundam pilots.

 

 

He worked the final coat of shine onto the already gleaming surface of Altron. He studied the plate before him for any trace of blemish or smudge.

"You are unwise to sneak up on a gundam pilot," he said, swiping at an imaginary streak on the blue haul.

"I'm sorry," a man's voice replied, sounding at once, confident and petrified. "It was not my intent to 'sneak'."

It amused him, and he turned to look at the man who had dared approach the demon machine known as gundam. He already knew it couldn't have been one of the villagers--even the children stayed away from his Nataku, no matter how curious they were. And from his voice, he knew the man was not Chinese.

He was right, of course. The man was pale-faced, European, colonial probably from the lack of tan. The business suit was not suited to climbing the mountain Nataku was hidden upon and despite the chilly weather, the man sweated profusely. Wufei felt his amusement sour into disgust as he watched the man pant and mop his forehead with a cloth.

"Leave. You have no business here." He turned back to his Nataku.

"Forgive me, Master Chang," the man gasped. "But I have a message for you. Here."

Wufei wanted to rail at the man, the shock of being called "Master Chang"... No. "Master Chang" was his father, not him. He was no master...

And then he saw the envelope the man held out to him. There was something about it that...

He reached out and took it from the man, staring at the large "M" emblem on its surface.

 

 

"I'm thinking of going back to work in the forces," Howard said one night over a game of billiards.

"Oh, you *must* be joking," his brother replied, watching him line up and sink two balls.

"Why do ya say that?" the shagged man asked eyeing the table for his next shot.

"You left the fleet because you said it was too 'strict' for your tastes, remember?" Garret pushed him out of the way to make his own shot. He managed to sink the cue ball. "That was right before you up and joined a bunch of space pirates."

"We're called 'scavengers', not 'pirates', Gar, and I still don't see what that has to do with anything." He shot and missed.

"What would you be doing anyway?" Garret chalked up his stick. "Aren't all military forces supposed to be retired?"

"All except one." Howard took a gulp from his draft.

"One?" Garret scratched again.

"Uh huh. Eight ball, corner pocket."

Garret was already reaching for the rack. "Which one would that be?"

"They're called the 'Preventers'," Howard replied, rolling the remaining balls on the table down towards Garret and chalking up his stick.

"Oooh. Fancy."

"Yep." Howard smacked his lips. "A couple of girlies I had the pleasure of working with during the war are heading it up. I thought I might head over there and offer them some of my... expertise." He broke, the balls scattering across the table.

"You'd actually consider going back and doing something like that, huh?" Garret actually got a ball in and got to go again.

"I don't know." Howard tipped his bottle and motioned the waitress for another one. "I was thinking about it."

"What about your apartment?" Garret leaned back and watched his brother sink three balls consecutively and wink at the smiling waitress as she brought them each another bottle.

"You can have it," Howard shrugged. "Good neighborhood. Find yourself that wife you were talking about and get yourself a couple of kids. It'd do you good. I know how much ya like kids and all."

"I don't need your charity, Howard." Garret struck the cue ball with enough force to send it jumping off the table. Howard went to retrieve it.

"It's not charity. You're family." He slapped the white ball into Garret's hand. "Try again."

"I think you're crazy," his little brother replied.

"Yeah, well, that makes the both of us."

 

 

"Welcome, Wufei Chang, welcome!" the bearded man greeted grandiose-like, moving towards the smaller Chinese young man who had entered his office. The bearded man who was dressed funny with a silly feathered hat moved to clasped his shoulders. Wufei easily stepped back and away, avoiding any touch what-so-ever with the man.

The bear continued to smile, though he dropped his paws and stepped back away from Wufei. "Come, come!" he said, motioning towards his desk and a chair seated in front of it. "I'm so glad you could make it."

"I prefer to stand, thank you," Wufei replied, folding his arms behind him, legs shoulder-width apart.

There was an almost shy knock at the door as Dekim Barton moved around the desk to take his own seat. "Come in!" he called, arranging himself in his chair. He looked up and his smile turned... almost manic, Wufei noted. "Ah, Mariemeia! How good of you to join us. Please, take a seat. I would like to introduce you to Wufei Chang, a gundam pilot."

Wufei's eyes thoroughly inspected her from head to sole and back again. When he meet her sparkling blue eyes he noted the amusement found there in. 'Interesting,' he couldn't help but think.

"You are Chinese?" the girl asked in a surprisingly authoritative voice.

"I am," he replied with a slight nod of his head.

"Pilot of Gundam 05, then," she said with a certainty.

"You have been studying, I see."

She smiled. "It is wise to be well informed of those who are your allies, and even more well-informed of those who would be your enemies."

"Those are wise words for one so young," Wufei commented.

Her smile turned sad, though it did not falter. "They were my father's."

"Ah, I see."

"Is your family name 'Chang', then?" she asked before he could pose a question. He nodded. She held out a hand to him, which he accepted. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Chang Wufei."

He smiled at her greeting. "You know something of my culture, I see."

She was still holding his hand, smiling. "Yes. My father was somewhat of an Asian enthusiast himself. I've endeavored to learn all I can so that I might better understand him--his thoughts and his passions."

There was a tingling, racing up and down Wufei's spine as he asked, "And who is your father?"

Her smile turned knowing, and she pulled away from him enough to dip in curtsy to him. "Forgive me for not properly introducing myself. I am Mariemeia Khushrenada. Daughter of Treize Khushrenada."

It was all Wufei could do but stare as his throat and chest constricted.

 

 

 

 

**In the Pale Moonlight by Andrea Readwolf**

**Part 4 Act FOUR**

 

~Act IV~

He was asleep.

And then he was awake.

Just like that. Sudden consciousness. He couldn't even remember what he'd been dreaming about--but his body felt strange, tingly. He tried to sit up, but found his body didn't want to respond. He frowned--or, at least, he thought he frowned.

It was... dim. But he couldn't tell if it was morning or night, or just the room he was in. He didn't recognize the room, dark as it was, but something told him he wouldn't have recognized it anyway. Strangely enough, that thought didn't alarm him.

It didn't *look* like a prison cell, that's for sure. The bed beneath him was a lot more comfortable than any brig or holding cell.

'Prison cell'? 'Brig or holding cell'? Why would he be in one of those? What happened? What time was it? Where was he? And why the hell couldn't he *move*?!!

A door opened, shedding artificial yellow light into the darkened room. He tried to turn his head, to see who it was. He couldn't.

"Mrs. Darlain, ma'am? Will you be supping here tonight or shall I have the dining hall readied?" A woman's voice. Older, around fifty or sixty, he'd guess.

"Thank you, Pepper." Another woman's voice--younger but still mature. Perhaps in her forties. "I'll eat in here. There's no reason to go through all that work for just one person." And obviously used to giving out directions.

"Oh! It's no work, ma'am!"

"Pepper, Pepper..." Her voice was calm and cultured, soft and yet commanding.   "We have this discussion every night. It's growing tiring. I will sup here with Milliardo. Thank you."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll bring your dinner here, ma'am."

"Thank you, Pepper."

The door clicked shut again and the woman sighed. "Yes, I know she means well," she said, startling him. Did she know he was awake? He hadn't thought so... "But I really do enjoy eating here. Your rooms have the nicest view of the surrounding countryside.

"I talked to Relena earlier."

Relena? Yes.. his sister. His little sister, Relena Darlian. Was that his name then? Darlian? It didn't sound right...

"Marquise de Lancy has been making a fuss again. Apparently he doesn't want to believe she's not interested in him romantically. Men!--no offense, of course."

Marquise. That sounds right... Zechs Marquise. Yes. But... Why did his sister have a different name? Was she married? No... he didn't think..

"That Dorothy-girl she has working for her now finally chased him away. If I understand it right, Ms. Catalonia explained to de Lancy that although Relena was a pacifist, she herself suffered no such limitations and would gladly shoot him--or worse--if he didn't go away. Oh! What I wouldn't've *given* to see that!"

Zechs smiled mentally. Yes, Dorothy Catalonia could be very... persuasive when she wanted to be. So she found her way to Relena's side, had she? Well, he wasn't surprised. Dorothy always thrived where the action was and his sister... was...

Queen of the world? No, that could be right...

Somewhere near the bed, the woman's voice continued to drone on. Zechs picked out only a word to two before his headache increased and he slipped back into unconsciousness.

 

 

She stood in front of the plain door with the numberings 1*2 wondering, not for the first time, what had convinced the two ex-terrorists to take up residency on the fifth floor. No one answered her first knock so she rapped again. She wasn't about to be turned away.

The door opened a bare inch and she smiled. "Are you going to invite me in, Duo Maxwell?"

He frowned--he didn't recognize her, good. More fun for her when he realized who she was and why she was there. He stepped back and opened the door for her and she stepped forward. She caught the quick look he shot towards the person hiding behind the other side of the door and her smile increased.

"Ah, good," she said, removing her black gloves to reveal finely manicured hands. "Heero Yuy." She looked up, lifting the veil and black sun hat from her platinum blonde head--her hair wrapped up in a tight bun so it wouldn't be easily noticed at night. "Just the person I was hoping to find."

Heero stepped forward; Duo stepped back, relaxing his hold of his gun--still ready at a moment's notice, though. He didn't have to wait long for that moment.

"Dorothy Catalonia," Heero replied, one firm hand against the door shutting it behind her.

She smiled down the barrel of Duo's gun and pulled at a pin that held her hair up; the long, blonde strands unfurled behind her. "Ah! Much better." She turned away from Duo and any threat he might have posed for her and smiled at Heero. "Now, onto business."

She folded her hands in front of her with her hat and clip. "Heero Yuy. I have a proposition for you."

"Not interested," the other boy said, turning away and walking towards the other room.

"You've been to see Miss Relena before," she continued as if he hadn't said a thing. "You know first hand what security she keeps. Frankly, she's far too trusting." Dorothy followed him into the other room, discovering a small living area furnished with vidscreen, media-station, and a black laptop. The couch was worn and threadbare, but the table looked brand new. 'Interesting,' she thought. "I have done my best to improve the efforts of her security, however, my best is not good enough in this area. I lack the... expertise and time, let us say."

"Let's say you get out the way you came," Duo snipped coming out from behind her, to go stand by Heero.

She ignored him. "You do."

"Hey, listen. I really think you should--"

"You are the best," Dorothy said, her chin notching higher as she stared down at both of them. Heero might have grown a few inches since the last time they'd met, but so had she--and she was still taller than both of them. She used her height to her advantage. "I am here to offer you a position as head of Vice Minister Darlian's security."

"That's nice, but we're already kinda busy here," Duo replied, folding his arms across his chest, standing behind Heero's chair as the stoic boy said nothing.

"It does not have to be a permanent position--only temporary, if that's what you wish," she continued, standing tall and proud. "I ask only that you stay long enough to train those who will be responsible for protecting Miss Relena, and that you install upon them the same precision and focus you demand from yourself."

"Hey, look--" Dorothy did, finally, look at him. "We've got our own problems here--"

"You're problems would be greater if something were to happen to Miss Relena right now," she pointed out.

"Why me?" Heero asked, quieting any comeback his braided lover might have shot out.

Dorothy smiled at him, her blue eyes shining with amusement and glee. "Because you are the best. Because Relena trusts you above all others, as do I. And because she will do what you tell her to in order to ensure her safety, as will I."

Heero frowned at her. "Relena doesn't take orders from a soldier."

"Orders?" Dorothy's smile turned into a tiny smirk. "Tell me, Duo, how are things going with the rehabilitation here on this colony?"

"What's that got to do with anything?" the longhaired boy asked defensively.

But Heero and Dorothy were staring each other down. "Why not someone else?"

Dorothy sighed. "I've already *told* you. You are the best. I expect you to train the best."

"Hey, now, listen. I don't think you're paying attention here," Duo said, holding up a hand towards her. "We're *busy*. B*U*S*Y. Busy."

"Too busy to protect the figurehead of peace?"

"Now wait a minute!"

Dorothy lifted her hand to ward off any further argument. "We both know it's only a matter of time before someone tries something." She shot each boy a piercing, knowing look. She wasn't a fool and neither were they. "Someone is going to try and hurt Miss Relena. I won't allow for it. That is why I have come to you."

She reached for her hair and began twisting it up. "The decision is, of course, yours." She replaced the pin. "I will not force you to do anything more than what you already have." She fastened her hat back into place and began pulling on her gloves. "However," and she again shot them each a look. "If something *does* happen to her and you have done nothing to prevent it--know I *will* hold you personally accountable."

And then she turned and was gone, leaving the two frowning boys behind.

 

 

Aim. Fire. <PING>

"So will you tell me what they're doing for my birthday?"

Aim. Fire. <PING>

"No."

Aim. Fire. <PING>

"Auh! But *Blaire*!"

Aim. Fire. <PING>

"Don't even think about it, Carina."

Aim. Fire. <PING>

"Auh, but *Blaire*! I wanted to--"

Aim--

"Augha!"

"Blaire!"

The dark-haired teen raced to catch her sister before the older girl could crumble to the sands. She helped the blonde woman to a nearby tree, resting her back against the smooth bark of the palm, gasping with worry as her eyes raced over the blonde's face.

"What is it? What's the matter?" she gushed. "Blaire, talk to me!"

The blonde grabbed her youngest sister for support, panting as her senses screamed out. Too weak to continue standing on her own, Blaire slide down the surface of the tree trunk until she was sitting on the mound of sand at its base. Green-grey eyes shut tight against the tidal wave of sensory output that flooded her body as she struggled to pull her senses in and regain control of herself. She blinked furiously to clear her vision, and saw Rini kneeling over her, her young face strained with concern and fear.

One cursory glance noted that the teen had returned her firearm back to its holder and had not just dropped it in the sands. Blaire was proud--and saddened.

"Blaire?" Rini's voice was choked with swallowed tears.

"I'm all right," the older girl assured with a small smile. "Let's call it a day for today, okay?"

Rini nodded, all too ready to go back and hang out with some of the other kids. She stood and held out her hand for Blaire, and they made their way back to the compound in silence--Rini shooting sideway, worried glances at her sister.

Halfway there, the door to the out wall burst open and a green and blonde streak raced towards them. "Blaire!"

"I know," the older girl said before Devenley could.

Reaching them, the second blonde nearly collapsed at their feet, panting. "Then you can't deny it any longer!" She looked up, her aquamarine eyes searching out first her sister's face and then the blue skies above. "It *was* him... It *is* him..."

Blaire looked down at the sands in front of their feet, scowling. She didn't say anything but continued walking forward, passing Dev and leaving Rini behind.

"Blaire--!"

"No." Soft, but firm.

"You can't be *serious*!" Devenley cried, racing after her sister. She whirled before her, forcing the older girl to stop or go around her.

"He hasn't been tried," Blaire announced as if that proved her point.

"So we call him up, ask him to come here, and put him through the trials!" Dev couldn't see why her sister was so against this...

Blaire's lips formed into a tight, straight line. Blue eyes flashed, clashed against blue eyes. "Fine," she finally agreed. "We will try him. I will do it myself."

And then the older girl pushed past her sister again and stormed the rest of the way back to the compound by herself.

Rini stared at her sister's back until the older girl disappeared into the compound. Then, looking over to Devenley, she asked with wide-eyes, "What's going on?"

 

 

"I'm against it," she said, exiting the elevator at a brisk pace.

"You're against a lot of things, Dorothy," Relena replied gently, smiling at the other blonde.

"I wasn't against you growing your hair out, now was I?" the other girl smirked at her.

Relena laughed. "I still think it's too long. I should get it cut."

"Don't you dare!" Her secretary, she noticed, was not at his desk. Dorothy frowned. She'd have to talk to him about that. She sighed and led the way into Relena's office--and stopped dead in her tracks.

"You're security still sucks."

"Heero!" Relena pushed out from behind Dorothy to confirm with her eyes what her ears had already told her. There, seated in *her* chair, behind *her* desk, sat Heero Yuy in a blue tee-shirt and jeans. Her eyes drank him in. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice shy and gentle.

Prussian eyes stared into icy blue. "Returning a favor."

"A... favor?" Relena asked, confused as she noted the stare between him and Dorothy. "But... for what."

Heero looked back Relena. "You helped me, now I will help you."

Dorothy smiled--like the cat who'd caught the canary.

 

 

He was awake again.

It was day. He could tell this time.

He turned his head to look out the window. Mid-morning if the glaring light pouring through the double doors was any indication.

He wasn't sure what day it was, but at least he knew who he was, if not where he was. Gingerly, he went over his entire body, trying out the muscles before attempting to sit up. They were stiff, but at least they were responding.

He was grateful his body obeyed. Some days it still took him a couple of tries before he was sitting. Today was going to be a good day, it seemed. Cautiously, he swung his legs over around the side of his bed, taking several deep breaths before pushing up.

For a moment, he thought he was going to fall, and he almost panicked. But he forced his knees to lock, bracing the back of his legs against the bed, and after several minutes, his balance centered.

Zechs Marquise was standing.

For several minutes he just stood there, staring at his surroundings. He was alive. He didn't know how or why, but he was alive. It was unbelievable. He should be dead. It was unfair.

After several minutes of doing nothing but stand there, Zechs convinced his body to move towards the balcony. His muscles were weak, his joints tight--there was a stiffness to his walk that annoyed the heck out of him. But he was moving.

He squinted at the sight that greeted him outside. The world was covered in snow. The world... he was on Earth. They had succeeded in saving the blue planet. Good. He was relieved.

He unlocked the French doors and stepped out into the frigid air. It was like a thousand needle points prickling all over his body. Good. He welcomed the pain. Pain was a reminder of life.

Beautiful. The ice-covered world before him was absolutely breath-taking. It was almost unthinkable that this had almost been lost.

Because of him.

He'd almost destroyed the Earth. He--

His knees threatened to give out on him and Zechs rested most of his weight down against the snowcapped stone railing, cursing his body's weakness.

"Good morning, Milli--oh my god!"

Zechs turned--too quickly--and ended up slipping on the icy balcony. It was a jarring fall and Zechs winced as his body painfully protested such rough treatment.

"Oh, Stars above! Are you all right, Milliardo? Here! Please! Let me help you back to bed. How are you feeling? Can you stand? Did you hurt anything?"

Zechs pushed both her and her questions aside. It was the woman from before, but he didn't know or recognize her. "Who are you?" he asked, still sitting on his ass in a pile of melting snow and ice.

"Forgive me. I am Geraldine Darlian, Relena's mother," the woman pulled back and smiled at him. "I'm glad to see you are finally awake, but, please, let me help you up and back inside. You've been asleep for quite a while and your body must be tired."

"Yes, hello," he greeted, still wary of the woman, but he let her help him back up and into bed. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Almost a year."

 

 

The jet set down with nary a bump on the thin strip that served as a runway.   Standing in the hatch, waiting for the stairs to roll up, Quatre Raberba Winner took in a deep breath. The scent of sand and surf made a pleasurable assault on his senses and the boy-billionaire smiled. He felt so good; he almost jumped from the plane without waiting for the stairs to get there.

"Master Quatre!"

The boy laughed. "Rashid! Hello! Thank you for being here!" He took the steps at once, flying down them and into the big bear-of-a-man's arms. The clean, earthy scent that always seemed to surround the man engulfed Quatre, and Quatre felt relaxed. He should have come back to earth sooner.

"Welcome home, Master Quatre," Rashid said, placing a warm, fatherly hand against the boy's back.

The blond boy pulled away a little and looked up at him, a small, adorable, confused frown on his face. "Home?"

Rashid's smile, if possible, grew. "Yes, this is the ancestral home of the Manganacs, once ruled by the Raberbas. Welcome to The Sands." He stepped back and motioned to the covered jeep waiting for them. "Come, let us get out of the sun. You are not properly dressed for such heat."

"Ruled...?" Quatre allowed himself to be lead away from the plane, one of the other men already reaching for his overnight bag. "You never told me anything about--"

"You never asked," Rashid replied, holding the door open for him. "The estate home, I am sorry to say, is uninhabitable at the moment, but I would be more than happy to take you there and show you were your mother lived when she was a child."

"My--mother? You knew my mother?" Quatre felt at once, overwhelmed with excitement and a strange sense of betrayal. Why was he only hearing of this now? Why hadn't--

"Come," Rashid commanded. "We shall take you to your rooms where you can refresh yourself and change into something more appropriate for this heat, and then I will answer all your questions to the best of my abilities.

'The ancestral home of the Raberbas,' Quatre thought, staring out at the beautiful paradise around him.

 

 

Something was not right. They both knew it, but they didn't know how to prove it.

"I'll go and check it out," Sally suggested, staring down at the reports they'd managed to gather. "If it's nothing, then great. But if it's something..."

Anne frowned, pushing a piece of mousy brown hair behind an ear. "Will you be back in time for the Celebrations?"

Sally made a face. "I was never much one for big, fancy celebrations," she said, pulling out one of the reports and flipping over to the page that worried her the most. Pictures. Of mobile suits. If it was true...

"Then we can celebrate... privately..." Anne suggest softly, afraid to look at the other woman.

Sally's head snapped up and she focused on the younger woman. Then a big, teasing grin split her face. "Why Anne, are you hitting on me?"

"I--" A rosy-hued blush infused the girl's cheeks.

"Careful," Sally warned, her voice teasingly low as she cornered Anne back against the table, pressing against the woman's back. Her breath teased her throat and shoulder. "Or I might just hit back..."

A small whimper rose from Lady Anne and her head fell forward as her body pressed back against Sally's.

"Is that what you want...?" the older woman breathed, torn between wanting to do something and not wanting to press or hurt the other woman.

"What," Anne licked her lips. "What about Crezia?"

It was true--Sally *did* have a crush on the younger, dark-haired girl. But, then, Noin was too involved emotionally with her Sank prince. Even if she'd been receptive, Sally would have felt guilty and insecure about taking advantage of her like that. Anne... was a different matter entirely.

Anne was older, for one--even if it was only by a year. She'd experienced more. She wasn't cute like Noin, but she was still pretty. And, in the past year she'd spent getting to know both women better, Sally found that she had many of the same interests as the petite woman, and that she liked her. In the end, she wasn't at all opposed to striking up a relationship with Anne.

"What about her?" Sally asked.

Grey eyes grew wide and Anne squeezed around until she was facing Sally. "I--I thought--"

"That I liked her?" Sally grinned. "I do." She pressed closer into the other woman. "But I like you, too."

"I--" Anne didn't know what to say. She knew what sex was like between a man and a woman. She knew she wasn't overly fond of it. She knew she was attracted to the woman in front of her. She knew she wanted Sally to kiss her. But she didn't know what was supposed to happen after that. They couldn't have... sex, could they? Not with them both being women.... "I--"

Sally leaned forward and touched her lips to Anne's--just a gentle, tingly light kiss. "We don't have to do anything you don't want," she assured before brushing her lips over Anne's again.

Anne's eyes drifted shut at the first contact as the tingling sensations raced shivers down her spine and arms and legs. The problem was, she thought, she wanted to do a lot.

 

 

When Rashid had said the estate was uninhabitable, he'd meant for Quatre to stay at. However, the main house and those buildings surrounding it were not completely destroyed. Yes, it looked like a war had taken place here and knocked out many of the walls, charred entire rooms. Vines and flowers from the gardens had migrated into the main house, climbing up the walls and over the staircases.

It looked like some enchanted place straight out of a storybook dream to the blond boy.

Garbed in light, creamy white robes that covered him from head to ankle, Quatre was surprised that he wasn't as hot or hotter then before when he'd came in his khaki pants and dress shirt. The turban was an unaccustomed weight on his head, but it wasn't unpleasant. Catching his image in one of the broken mirrors hanging on the walls, Quatre stopped and stared. He looked as surreal as his surroundings.

His senses were tingling--a light energy flow tickling over him as it had since he'd first landed. Only, now, it was stronger. It seemed to penetrate his skin, into his very bones. The air around him felt alive. He was tempted--tempted to drop his walls and *feel* this place completely.

But he was also afraid. Rashid had remained outside. Quatre had entered the estate by himself. If something happened... If he was too open... too vulnerable...

And then he felt it. Different from the tingling. A small buzzing, pushing at the back of his mind.

This was his mother's home... This was his family's home... What if...

Quatre dropped the shields around his senses and reached for the pulsating throb of his space heart--only, it *roared* in his ears. He cried out, falling to his knees.

"Can you feel it?"

He looked up. The woman who had called him here was now standing over him.

"Can you feel it?" she repeated harshly. He nodded weakly. "It is the Tellurium Crystal. It is the life stone of the Raberbas."

"Why?" Quatre gasped. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because it is our legacy," Blaire replied, her voice softer than he had ever heard it. "Stand up," she commanded. "Come with me."

His breath searing his lungs, Quatre climbed back to his feet and stood tall, facing her. She nodded her approval and then turned away, expecting him to follow. He did.

 

 

A year. He'd been unconscious for a year.

As Zechs strolled through the gardens of Peacecraft Manor, he thought over all Geraldine Darlian had told him.

He'd survived the war. Treize hadn't. He had a tombstone, erected beside Treize's. To the world, Milliard Peacecraft was dead. His sister was Vice Minister of the new government. She was in the colonies now, still--she'd been there for almost a year, Geraldine had said--helping them recover. Earth had been at war for only a year. The colonies had been caught in war for decades.

He was in Sank. In his homeland. Right now, he was living in the home he'd been born in, before his father had moved to the castle farther south. These were the gardens his parents had walked together.

Sank was free again. The Earth was free again. The world was freed.

Good. He was glad.

Only...

What was he supposed to do now?

He should have died. They should have left him to die. Why had they bothered to save him?

"Relena... would be sad." Heero Yuy's words from their final battle together resurfaced fresh in his mind.

His sister. His last words to her had been unkind. He had never really told her that he loved her, but he had hoped she'd known. She'd known, of course she had. She had to.

What would he say to her now? He had tried to destroy everything she worked so hard to achieve. And then, she had taken him in, hidden him from the world, protected him... Somehow, "thank you" didn't seem quite enough.

He'd been right. Relena was the better of them to lead. She'd proven that better than he had. He'd only proven how wrong he was.

The Preventers. He laughed. The thought of his Noin and Lady Une working together was very amusing indeed. He didn't know of the third woman Geraldine spoke of, Sally Po, but it seemed the three women had formed as fast friends after the war. He was glad. Noin never really took to any of her own sex. Even when they were still children, the dark-haired girl could be found more often rough-housing with the boys.

But then, Lady Une had never really struck him as very lady-like, and he could only wonder about this Sally Po.

His head hurt again, and he knew he should probably be heading back. In front of him, the sun was setting, casting orange and pink hues across the sky.

Truly... beautiful...

 

 

She led him through the estate like one accustomed to the many corridors and turns. He followed, the loud throbbing of his space heart accompanying them throughout.

"Where are we going?" he asked after what seemed like hours.

She turned again.

'Our legacy' she had said. He wondered what she meant. 'The life stone of the Raberbas.' What riddles was she playing him with?

She stopped suddenly, having come to the end off the hallway they were in. Quatre looked around her and noticed the large ornate door.

"Go in," she ordered, stepping aside to allow him passage. He looked at her, but her face was blank. With a breath of reassurance for himself, he moved passed her and stood before the door. He stood, staring at it for several minutes... before he reached out to push it up.

The door moved before his fingers even grazed it.

He stepped through... and didn't come out until the next evening.

 

 

He was frowning, but she still wasn't paying attention. "I don't like it," he repeated.

"I'm sorry, Heero, but I can't just say 'no'," Relena was packing her attaché case. "They asked for my help."

"You promised Dorothy you'd meet her back in Sank," he reminded her. "She's expecting you."

"Heero." Relena huffed and turned around to face him, finally noticing his frown. "I will only be 12 hours behind. It won't take that much to stop by L3x18999. He was still frowning. "Now, don't give me that look. You go on. I'll be perfectly fine. I have Murphy and Quinn with me."

"Hn." The Japanese boy was obviously not happy.

"Here," Relena said, reaching into her desk. "This is for Duo, and this is for you. Don't open until Christmas," she instructed, handing him two cheerfully wrapped gifts. She leaned up and placed a kiss on his cheek. "And try to *enjoy* yourself this Christmas, Heero. 'Tis the season to be jolly!'" She laughed, snatching shut her case and waltzing past him.

"Come on, Mr. Chief-of-Security-Heero-Yuy." She was in a good mood--teasing and laughing. "You may escort me to my shuttle."

"Hn." But he followed her out.

"Ah, ah, ah! There will be *no* Grinch to steal *this* Christmas! *Smile*, Heero."

He wondered if someone hadn't slipped something into her tea. She was in a terribly good mood. She almost reminded him of Duo. Speaking of which--he had only six more hours before he'd be able to see his longhaired lover again. He smiled.

"There you go! See!" Relena was laughing again. "It *is* possible for the great Heero Yuy to smile!"

Yep, he concluded. She'd definitely been drugged. But he continued to smile, all the way down to the space docks.

 

 

They were camped out together at the entrance to the estate. Rashid had refused to leave, though he ordered several of his other soldiers to do so. Adul was the only one who refused to obey the Manganac leader, and, as a result, the two mulish men were not talking to each other.

Which worked out fine for Katalynna--who "kidnapped" the younger soldier. Nita and Rini were playing a hand of rummy near the fire. Rashid and Jack were off by themselves talking. Dev and Blaire sat near the fire, staring into its flames, not saying a word to anybody. It had been like that since yesterday. The two blonde girls had not even eaten. Rashid explained to them that it was customary and they shouldn't worry.

That's why when the two girls looked up suddenly, everyone started. "He comes."

Rashid was on his feet, moving past their camp, but he didn't get far before the doors to the main house opened for Quatre Raberba Winner.

They all stood up. The blond young man descended the steps to them. He stopped when he reached the first step.

"What now?" Devenley asked, looking up at him with large blue-watered eyes.

He looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time. "Now I must return to space," he said, his voice sounding distant. "I'm afraid I have a previous engagement that I can't miss, but, I would like to... meet with you, all, again." He looked at them all gathered there, seeing them in a new light. "To talk with you, get to know you all better. After all, we're family."

A few of the girls laughed and smiled. Rashid was beaming proudly. "We'll be around," Jack said, with a smirk. "Don't call us; we'll call you."

"Are you all *really* gay?"

"KAT!" her sisters shouted.

"What?" the dark-haired girl asked, oblivious to the red-hued embarrassed faces around her. "It's a perfectly serious question..." She noticed several glares shot her way. "I mean, how did five, perfectly *beautiful* men get to be gay?"

"I don't know," Quatre smiled. "I was always raised with the acceptance of both sexes. I can't speak for the others." He looked up then, smiling as if he knew a secret. "If you'll excuse me..."

"We'll be in touch...." Jack called after him as he led the way towards one of the vehicles they'd brought with them, Rashid right behind him.

"Yes, we'll be touch..." Quatre called back to her. "Thank you for waiting for me. I'm sorry to leave like this!" He was already climbing into the jeep.

"He is the one," Devenley said softly to her sister. "Surely you see that now."

"Yes, the Prince has returned to his kingdom..." Blaire replied. "But I don't think he wants it."

"Give him time. There is change on the wind." Devenley watched as the jeep kicked up a trail of dust.

"We will wait until the wind turns," Blaire announced. "And then we will move again."

"We won't fade away so quickly."

"No, we will live forever."

"Immortality."

 

End of Act IV


	5. Act 5

**Act Five**

 

Quatre was in a hurry to leave the Sands because he wanted to get back to the space dock where the GMG was waiting with Sandrock. He wanted to be there when the others arrived.

No, if he was truthful with himself, he wanted to be there when--if--Trowa arrived. He wanted to see the other boy when the pilot brought his gundam. He wanted to see Trowa again.

He was too late, however.

Heavyarms was already loaded and secured on the GMG by the time the blond young man made it back to space.

Quatre was tempted to blame someone, anyone, but knew it would be pointless. The knowledge his trip to the Sands had gained him was invaluable. And he would see Trowa again. He *knew* it. He could *feel* it.

There was something else he could feel, too. The space around him, it hummed with urgency. Expectancy. Something big was about to happen, though Quatre didn't know what. He foolishly chalked it off to the upcoming celebrations that had already started around the Earth and colonies. It was the day before Christmas, after all. And soon, they would be saying farewell to the gundams...

His beloved Sandrock.

Quatre was grateful that Duo was there with him when the GMG disembarked on its voyage to the sun. He was grateful that he wasn't alone. The journey to the sun would take almost two weeks. To reach Venus alone it would take the GMG 6 days. He was a bit heartsick watching the huge cargo ship float away, but he was reassured in the knowledge that the other has obviously agreed with his decision to send the gundams away.

All except Wufei, that is.

Quatre was worried about his Chinese friend. Wufei had left all his messages unanswered. Even his *presence* was shut off from Quatre. The blond boy was seriously concerned by the fact that he couldn't reach Wufei at all. But he didn't know what he could do.

He invited Duo back to his home for Christmas Eve dinner, but the braided pilot had laughed and waved him off, saying he'd special plans of his own and he'd have to take a rain check. Quatre let him go, regretful that their time together was so short. But they at least agreed to get together sometime in the New Year.

Still...

The blond young man was restless. He couldn't sleep. Tomorrow was Christmas; tonight the anniversary of the Eve Wars. He paced his home, his mind lost in jumbled thoughts. Something was happening... something... but he didn't know what. It was infuriating.

It was that sense of... *wrongness*, that had him on the phone, calling up the resources that would help him get the gundams back and *fast* the minute a little redhead child's face filled the media-screens with her intentions to rule the world.

 

 

Trowa had looked toward dropping his gundam off at the L4 spaceport the GMG was docked at with mixed emotions. On the one had, he dreaded the possibility of meeting Quatre there, face to face. The first time in nearly a year. On the other... he was praying for the opportunity to see the beautiful blond boy again. Anticipating it with a fever.

That's why he left a whole day earlier than the prearranged time. He was both relieved and saddened when the blond boy was not there. He debated staying until the next day, but quickly rejected the idea. He had to return to Catherine and the circus. Still...

He was only too happy to be rid of the large, red gundam. To give up the responsibility, the fighting. He was finally ready. This last year of peace had taught him that he didn't need a battlefield to exist, like he'd previously thought. Even though he was raised in the fires of battles, he could exist without fighting, or, at least without fighting with bullets and guns.

Life itself was a battlefield, he thought whimsically. And Trowa thought he might come to like it.

He was a little torn up about not getting to see Quatre, sure, but he was very happy to be relieved of the burden the gundam had placed on him. He was finally free...

Or, so he'd thought before he'd knocked those four goons out and realized the Barton Foundation hadn't given up yet.

Then, suddenly, he was longing for his gundam again--for the security it presented. But his suit was out of reach now; on it's way to the sun. He was on his own. Again.

'If you can't beat them outright, join them,' he thought, pocketing the identification card. 'Or make them think you're joining them...'

 

 

He's jet was due back at 2300 hours.

Duo had their apartment decked out and ready by 9:30, was showered and dressed by 10, and at the airdocks, waiting and ready a half hour before ~Shinigami's Lover~ touched down.

Duo didn't even wait for the engines to finish firing down before he was climbing on board. As expected, Heero was still in the cockpit, working as usual.

"I'm surprised to see people working on Christmas Eve," the braided boy teased, leaning in the doorway. "Trowa has a niece? I didn't know that." He moved up behind his lover to look over at the screen that held Heero so captivated.

"It's only on record," Heero answered. "The Trowa we know is not the real Trowa Barton."

"Huh?" If Trowa wasn't Trowa, then who was he, Duo wondered. But before he could ask, Heero was grabbing his jacket and leaving. "Hey! Where are you going?" Duo called after him.

"Relena's been kidnapped," was all the other boy told him.

Duo groaned. 'No, no, no, NO! She *didn't* do this purposefully. She didn't just ruin all his plans for Christmas. No. He knew is lover. He knew Heero wouldn't be in any mood to 'celebrate' when a 'mission' was on. Duo sighed. "Anything for the one you love," he mumbled, before realizing Heero was already gone. "Hey! Heero! Wait up! I'm coming too!"

The Japanese pilot was already at the hatch when he turned back to Duo's shout. "Are you sure?"

Duo grinning at him. "Hey, Christmas is *mine* remember?" At the other boy's look he shrugged. "It's our first Christmas together. So... are we going to get to blow things up?"

Heero stared at him, and then smiled. "I think so."

Duo leaned over and planted a kiss on Heero's mouth. "Sounds like it's going to be a good Christmas after all." The braided boy winked and then went off in search of one of the other shuttles that would suit their purposes.

 

 

He was walking the street, taking in the miracle of it all. Al the people, so happy and excited. He walked, like a ghost amongst them. Seeing but not a part of it all. He wasn't sure what he was doing. He'd been to the apartment number Geraldine had given him, but Noin wasn't there. He'd thought about visiting Lady Une then, but she wasn't at her apartment, either. The only other address he had was for one of the old OZ administrating buildings. Apparently, it was the new Preventers' Headquarters.

He was already on his way there when the broadcast lit up all the media screens.

"My name is Mariemeia Khushrenada. My father is Treize Khushrenada."

Zechs was running. The building was mostly deserted. No one tried to stop him. He had the elevator ride up to the top floor to calm his breathing.

"Who is it?" the Lady barked out.

"Excuse me," he replied. "May I give my code name, also?"

He saw the surprise on her face.

"You may call me "wind"--which will put out the fire," he told her.

She smiled, he smiled. "Zechs..." She came around her desk and reach out for him. "Thank the spirits."

He was surprised when she embraced him, but he accepted it. "Lady... I must ask you..."

She pulled away. "Anything," she answered, reposing herself.

"Tallgeese."

"Of course," she said, reaching for her identi-card on her desk. "Follow me."

 

 

"I'm very sorry for asking you to come with me, Rashid."

"Don't be sorry, Master Quatre."

"It's my fault. If I hadn't suggested sending the gundams into the sun, this would not have happened."

"Nobody could have predicted this," Rashid assured the blond young man. "Now we have to think about this situation."

"Yes, you're right," Quatre replied, but in his heart, he knew that the others *had* predicted this... but they'd still allowed for their gundams to be sent away. Why?

It was his idea to send the gundams into the sun. That's why he had to get them back. He hated the idea of leaving the main work up to the others, but he knew they were going to need the gundams back--and he trusted Heero and Duo and Trowa and Wufei to stop the colony drop.

 

 

By the time they made it onto the colony and regrouped, it was midmorning, Christmas Day. Heero was strangely distant from him, but then, Duo had to remind himself it had been a while since they were on a mission such as this together.

But still... something seemed to be really bothering his Japanese lover. At first, Duo thought it was all about Relena's safety--but the girl was taken off colony and they didn't go after her. When he found out about the plans to follow through with the original Operation Meteor, he decided that must be it and raced with his partner to go throw a monkey wrench in the Barton Foundation's plans. They fought their way into the colony's control room.

"You're late."

Duo was surprised to see Trowa sitting there, but Heero wasn't. "Well, well. I guess you have the same purpose, huh?" the braided boy grinned.

"Help me out. The system is locked and it takes time to get back the colony's balance control."

"Alright, alright," Duo answered, heading over to one of the consoles.

"We'd better hurry. It seems that the main force has already started the operation." Heero was in perfect-soldier-mode still. It sort of unnerved Duo a bit, how cold and unemotional his very emotional lover could get.

"The last lock can't be canceled," Duo called out. He knew the importance of regaining the balance controls, despite any of his joking. "The circuit has to be lined directly!"

Trowa was already on it. "I was too late," the boy said to no one. "I have an important friend here on this colony. When I noticed that Dekim's purpose is the real Operation Meteor, I could only think of this way. But it took so much time to get this far..."

"How 'bout Wufei?" Duo couldn't help but ask. "Did he also join Mariemeia's soldiers to help stop this?"

"He doesn't do things in such a roundabout way," Heero answered, his voice sounding hard even to Trowa.

 

 

Quatre was already flying the GMG back towards Earth at top speed when he received the message from Duo. He was relieved to know that they had succeeded in stopping the colony drop--he knew he could count on them. Now it was his turn to pull through for them. He tried to coax more speed out of the GMG, but it was already going as fast as the old cargo ship would go.

 

 

There was little she could do in space, she knew. So she took off for Earth just as soon as Duo contacted them and let them know the colony was safe. Sally continued on to x18999, but Noin needed to get back to Earth. Anne had already contacted them--Zechs was in Tallgeese, fighting off enemy mobile suits. Noin needed to be with him.

He was awake... he was alive and walking, and *fighting*. He was going to be okay. But she needed to be with him.

 

 

She felt like kicking herself. Once again, Heero had been right. She'd walked right into trap. Relena sighed, leaning back into the uncomfortable flight seat. Was she really so foolish to believe in peace? Once again, somebody had to rise up and object to her proposals for Peace. At least this time it wasn't her own brother...

She looked over at the child sitting next to her. Treize Khushrenada's daughter. Could it be possible? The man had held some very well kept secrets it seemed. She wondered what else the former-general had been privy too.

She wanted to be angry with the girl, but knew she couldn't be. Mariemeia was just a child. Just a pawn in this uprising. Relena could just *hear* Dorothy now...

First the blonde would scold Relena, reprimanding her for not coming straight to Sank as was planned. Then, she would lay into the child, scolding her for being used as such a pawn--"a disgrace to the Khushrenada name," she was say. And *then* she would turn back on Relena and yell at her for being so foolish and for putting herself in this position in the first place.

Relena wished she *had* listened to Heero and Dorothy and had kept to her original schedule. She would have been in Sank right now, with her brother and mother and Dorothy... celebrating Christmas instead of worrying if the government would still be standing tomorrow morning.

 

 

Une watched with her small band of Preventers as the mobile suits came falling to earth with the snow. MOIII was destroyed. L3x18999 was safe. But Earth wasn't safe yet.

A child... When? How? Whom?

'Treize,' she thought, pushing her hair away from her face as the biting wind tossed it around. 'You never told me you had a daughter... Why? Did Zechs know? He seemed so calm... but, then, he's a true soldier, like you. A child... I wonder... what other secrets have you kept from me, Treize...?'

"Lady Une! It's as you said, ma'am!" Preventer Braddocks shouted over the wind to her. "They're setting up formation around the estate!"

"They will most likely be taking Vice Minister Darlian there!" she replied. "We need to find a way in and fast! If the defense system goes on line it will be next to impossible to get in!"

"Understood!"

They'd have to get past all those mobile suits, and then Mariemeia's soldiers... With any luck, Zechs would be returning soon with the Tallgeese. She wished she could send some of the others out in mobile suits, too, but the only had a limited number and not enough resources to go around, and she had a feeling that Noin would want one the minute she got back...

 

 

It took sixteen hours. From the time they'd started, until the time Quatre could get back with the gundams. He'd already sent Wing ZERO on its way to rendezvous with Heero; they'd meet up again back on Earth. It was an hour's difference from when Heero would get ZERO to when Quatre would meet up with Trowa and Duo.

Seeing Trowa again... but now wasn't the time. They still had to stop the Barton Foundation.

 

 

"I have wanted to fight you for a long time," he told the other pilot.

"What are you doing, Wufei?" Heero had asked him.

"Are you guys right?" he returned.

"What"

"I'm asking you whether you're right or wrong!"

Heero hadn't answered. He had been hoping the other boy would have had the answer, but apparently Heero wasn't perfect after all. Wufei knew the answer... once. But he'd forgotten it. He remembered his desire to fight all evil in the Universe. To destroy it and reign justice upon the world. Somewhere, he'd lost that.

Sitting in Nataku, waiting, waiting for the other pilot to come, he tried to remember that feeling. Tried to remember what *right* felt like. He waited for Heero to come. He knew he would. He knew Heero would come. They weren't finished yet. Heero still had to prove to him that Wufei was wrong.

He hoped he was. He hoped--his monitor bleeped to life. "I can't allow you to go to Earth."

" Is this what you call 'justice'?"

Across the feed, Heero's voice sent a delicious shiver of anticipation down his spine. This was it.

"There are always some victims when trying to achieve peace!" Wufei shouted back to him. "Evil is the only option left for me. The world hasn't changed no matter what humanity tries to do."

He was right; he had to be right.

"The more you fight," Heero shouted back at him, "the more victims for peace will die! We have no reason to fight anymore."

NO! He wouldn't believe that!

"Are you saying we've no need for fighters anymore? What will happen to all the fighters who know nothing but war?!"

They were hacking away at each other. The fight was more evenly matched now, gundam against gundam, pilot against pilot.

"Soldiers have been fighting for peace."

Peace? Ha! There was no such thing as peace!

"Put some trust in the world that lies here now!"

They cannot be trusted! Don't you see that? Can't you see! They are not fit to rule themselves! They are not strong enough!

"I am fighting for all soldiers," Wufei shouted to him, "including you and me! We're both the same. Aren't we at our prime when in battle?"

He was crying--Heero must have known that too. He hated him. Oh, how he hated him! Hated him for his spirit! Hated him for the fire in his soul, that determination that wouldn't die out!

" Wufei..."

"The battle field is the only place where we can realizing our existence!"

Why didn't he see? Why didn't he understand that?

"Wufei, Treize is dead! He defeated you!"

"NO! I am still at war with him!...."

He attacked, more ferociously than before. He needed it--he needed to feel alive again. The rage... the hate... it felt so good to just *feel* again... *anything*... to feel something...

"Relena Peacecraft is wrong," Wufei told the other pilot. "Peace can't be gained by doing away with arms and soldiers!

"Is that why you're supporting Mariemeia's dictatorship?"

"That's where all the fighters' souls rest!"

They were fighters! He should understand this!

"Mariemeia will do nothing but repeat all the miserable history!" Heero shouted back at him. "If we don't' stop the flow now, it'll be necessary for more fighters like ourselves! The tragedy will repeat itself forever!"

The... tragedy...

"Tell me, Wufei... how many times must we kill? How many more times must I kill that little girl and her dog...? Zero won't say anything to me, so tell me, Wufei... "

Wufei choked, the tears burning his eyes, blurring his vision. He could see it. The tragedy that was his life... burning, blurring before him... His colony, his clan, his life... puffed out of existence in a close of space dust. The tragedy...

"The tragedy will repeat itself forever," Wufei whispered brokenly, watching as Wing ZERO fell to earth.

 

 

They took the outer defense control room. It was a small victory, but a victory non-the less.

Anne was furious though. Before being knocked out, one of the soldiers had said there were only fulfilling Master Treize's wished. "They say this is Treize's idea?" She turned to look at the other Preventers who were with her. "They don't even know that they're being manipulated by Dekim."

She was angry. A quiet anger that penetrated and vibrated on the very air around her. How *dare* he? That *monster*. To use a child... and to corrupt Master Treize's ideals...

She would destroy him.

"Quickly! We need access to corridors 38 and 46!"

"What is your plan, Colonel?" Nicholas asked as the other five men swept past them to the computers.

"If we can get into the air ducts, we can get down into the main house," she told him, turning to watch the monitors. "I want him, Nicole."

"Then we shall deliver him to you," the young man answered, snapping into a salute.

 

 

They were ready to die. To take the three gundam suits with them. That's when their sensors went off.

"Wing ZERO!"

It was true! Yet again, when the going looked about beat, that crazy Japanese pilot showed up.

'Are you going to say the day again, Heero?' Duo wondered, praying to God he was.

"Let me verify... You're shield is up?"

"What... what are you planning?" Dekim asked.

"The shelter is complete?"

Down below, safe in her castle, Mariemeia wanted to laugh at him. "Of course! Show me how powerless you are!"

"Accepted."

And suddenly, things weren't so laughable anymore. She cried out as the world around her rocked violently.

"What an evil guy!" she cried, climbing back to her feet. "Can't he see this is futile?"

"Are you afraid? Mariemeia?" Relena asked.

The girl turned to look at her, those blue eyes wide. Relena looked calm and in control, unafraid at all. Mariemeia looked back to the vidscreen, allowing the ice of command to infuse her bones.

Wing ZERO fired again.

"Impossible!" her grandfather shouted. "Why?"

"Shields down to one-half!" one of the soldiers called out.

"You fool! Relena Peacecraft is down here! Stop it!" Dekim shouted over the com.

Outside, Quatre, Trowa, Duo, Zechs and Noin watched, helpless, wondering what the other pilot would do.

"Heero..."

Mariemeia gasped. HE wouldn't... he couldn't... No!

Wing ZERO fired again, the force of the blast tearing the already beaten gundam apart.

"Heero!"

Relena and Mariemeia coughed at the dust and struggled to regain the breath that had been knocked from them. The child was trembling. Lady Une pulled away, letting the two younger girls under her, up.

"Are you alright?" the Preventer woman asked.

"And you are...?" Mariemeia asked, staring up at the woman.

"Even though you maybe wrong," Anne told her, "I can not allow Master Treize's heiress to die." She smiled at the child as the girl stared up at her in awe with large blue eyes.

Someone shouted something about another gundam.

 

 

Wufei watched as the people shouted back at the Serpent mobile suits. He felt a stirring in his soul. A pride... a piece of happiness he'd thought lost.

"We can preserve out peace by ourselves!" one of the people shouted.

Wufei smiled. "A battle is not to be decided by soldiers only.... I don't have to fight anymore now..." he realized. "Goodbye, Treize..."

 

 

There was no defeat... They were the winners... She was a winner... she would ascend the throne and fulfill her father's wishes... She would...

Mariemeia stumbled, and suddenly, the Preventer woman who had saved her was standing before her, blocking her way.

"Forgive me," Anne said, raising her to strike the child.

But Relena got there first.

Mariemeia stared in shock at the two women, holding her stinging cheek.

"Open your eyes to the world, Mariemeia," Relena told her harshly.

She didn't know what to say. Relena had... hit her... "Relena..."

"You have already learned to fear," the former queen of the world said. "I'm sure you are able to realize your own wrong doing as well."

"Stop right there, Relena Peacecraft. Don't tell my Mariemeia such foolish things!"

"If you must, please shoot me," Relena said, turning to the old man. "I'm ready." And she was, she realized. She was willing and ready to die if that's what it took.

"Then allow me to tell you the truth before you die." How smug he seemed. "The people are *meant* to submit to their rulers!" He aimed his gun and fired.

Relena was ready--but suddenly she was pushed out of the way. Mariemeia cried out. The soldiers in the room cried out. Anne stared, horrified as the girl fell to the ground.

"Mariemeia!"

Relena ran to her; already a pool of blood was swimming around her small body, soaking her clothing.

"Another Mariemeia can always be created. I'll kill this young girl as well..." He was mad. There was no other excuse for it. That bullet the young soldier put threw his head was the kindest thing anyone could have done for him.

Relena watched as the gun was aimed at her again. A shot fired. Feathers flew. Blood splattered. Dekim fell to the ground. The trembling officer lowered his weapon. "I apologize for my betrayal to Madam Treize," he said, pulling himself into a salute to the fallen child. Elsewhere in the room, other soldiers followed him in salute.

"Hang on, Mariemeia," Relena told the bleeding child. Anne was at their side, hovering over them.

"I... was wrong," Mariemeia whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Mariemeia..."

"I'll put you at ease."

"Heero!"

There, standing five feet away from the three women, he stood holding his gun, aiming it at the child.

Mariemeia stared at him... and then smiled. "Thank you," she whispered, closing her eyes, accepting the bullet he offered her.

Heero pulled his trigger. The girl fainted.

"I killed Mariemeia," he whispered. "I don't have to kill anymore." And then he collapsed.

Relena screamed, racing for his falling body.

Anne yelled for her team of Preventers and to the other soldiers just standing around, shouting for them to get a medic. The area buzzed to life with activity.

 

The End

Next: "Promise of the Rings"


	6. Car Wash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In The Pale Moonlight Sidefic  
> 02-May-2001  
> Side Story to: In the Pale Moonlight   
> Rating: H--for hentai  
> Pairings: 1+2 (2x1)   
> Warnings: Lemon-y-goodness. YAOI style.
> 
> Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and its characters belong to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency and are only being used for non-profit entertainment purposes. References to printed texts, films, sitcoms, musical pieces, and/or other fanfictions don't belong to the author either.  
> Notes: the "Fioni" is a fictionalized car. Action takes place in later half of ACTs 1.2 and 1.3 of "In the Pale Moonlight".

**In The Pale Moonlight Sidefic**

 

Heero Yuy set the bucket, sponge and soap down next to the front driver's wheel of the '64 Fioni. The mercury blue-colored old-engine, motor vehicle was too special to scrap Duo had told him 4 months ago when the car had first found its way to Duo and Hilde's scrap-shop. So the relic was kept in the backyard, worked on a little bet here and there, whenever the braided boy had a chance to. Sometimes Heero would watch him from his window. Sometimes, he would come outside and try to help the boy. Try. The sad truth of the matter was, Heero Yuy knew next to nothing about cars.

Space ships, shuttle-crafts, gundams, computers. Those things he knew. Old cars?

Might as well ask him to plan a social. However, wash a car? Now that he could do, and planned to. Duo had finished rebuilding the Fioni last night. Heero planned to have the car spick and span and completely detailed by the time his lover got home tonight. He went around and pulled the water hose around back where the car was. He'd never washed or detailed a car before, but he'd figured it can't be much different than cleaning a gundam. Start from the inside, work your way out. All that remained now were the windows, mirrors, and the shell.

He sprayed the car with a liberal amount of water, and then filled the bucket up, adding some soap and swishing it around some with the sponge. He moved in small circles, sudsing up one section of the car, rinsing it off, and then sudsing it up again. When the entire car had been washed, he cleaned the windows and mirrors until they were streak-less. Then, he reached for the small tub of wax. He was leaning over the hood, trying to buff the top near the windshield, when Duo came home.

The sight that greeted him was definitely a welcome one: Heero Yuy, in a pair of wet-skin-tight jeans that hung around his hips and thighs like they were painted on, no shirt, back muscles cording and rippling in the artificial sunlight, leaning over the hood of his new Fioni like a wet dream. It certainly had the same effect as a wet dream, Duo realized when his normally loose pants became two sizes too small.

He watched transfixed, staring at that gorgeous body as it moved back and forth, muscles bulging in arms and back, tight ass pushing out like an offering each time he leaned over the hood...

Duo had a sudden vision of pushing the other boy against the hood, taking him right there, in the back yard; fucking him hard from behind as Heero leaned over the car, panting, begging him for more. He could taste the tangy sweat from Heero's neck as he licked him; smell the mixture of sweat and grease that enveloped him; feel Heero in front of him, beneath him, all around him. It was so real that he wasn't even aware that he's moved, left the kitchen and crossed the yard to press against that warm sweaty body.

Duo groaned, pressing his lips to Heero's neck--sweeter than he'd imagined. Nothing could ever compare to the real thing. Heero stiffened, at once alert and surprised that someone had snuck up on his--but the second those lips touched his skin, those arms wrapped around his center, that familiar groan teased his ears, that delicious presence pressed against his backside--he relaxed back into his lover's arms.

"You're home early," Heero managed to breathe, resisting the urge to just melt right there and then.

"I am," Duo agreed, lips trailing from neck to shoulder, teeth grazing the sensitive point. "Oh God, Heero. You look so good, I could take you right here..."

The Japanese pilot whimpered, his knees threatening to give out on him. "Please," he gasped, thrusting back against Duo, hearing the boy's lovely groan in response.

Duo's hand found its way to the front of Heero's pants, and he squeezed the boy through the soft denim. "Oh God, Heero, you're so hard."

"Fuck me, Duo!" Heero panted, caught between the delicious feel of Duo's hand teasing his cock, and Duo's answering arousal pushing against his ass. All he could think of, all he wanted right now, was for Duo to be inside him, fucking him.

"Here? Now?" Duo gasped, looking up and inking in their surroundings. True, the yard was fenced in with stockade, but--- still... It was fairly out in the open. In the middle of the day. Something tingled and raced up and down inside him at the thought of making love outside, in the open.

"Yes," Heero pleaded, moving against him so wantonly. Duo was ready to take the other boy in the middle of the fucking street.

His hands met at Heero's fly, fingers dancing quickly to free the fastenings and shove the denim down Heero's slim hips.

"Lube," the other boy gasped as his erection sprung free and slapped the hood of the Fioni. "Right pocket."

Duo caught at the falling jeans, fingers snipping the well-used tube of lube free before letting them fall down around Heero's ankles. Two generously-coated fingers teased Heero's opening; the Japanese boy whimpered and begged until Duo gave him what he wanted, both fingers pumping in and out of the time ring of muscle, stretching him. Heero leaned over the hood, pushing back as hard as he could while begging Duo for more.

The braided-boy didn't last another minute before he was coating his cock and parting Heero's two perfect cheeks, guiding his erection into the tight sheath of bliss that was Heero's ass.

And then they were thrashing against each other. Hips crashing together with bruising force; each drive from Duo, Heero dove back, taking, accepting, demanding more from his lover, demanding it all. Duo gave, and gave, and gave; thrusting into that tight little ass until he couldn't give any more and he screamed, coating the insides of the Japanese boy with his spend.

Heero thrust back several more times before realizing his lover was spent. With a shout, he came, spilling all over the hood. Duo leaned against him, exhausted, muscles fatigued, sweaty and sticky, nuzzling Heero's neck and shoulder.

"Made a mess," Heero commented, finding support from the Fioni, realizing it was covered with sweat and cum.

Duo laughed, his arms tightening around Heero's hips and waist, holding him closer. "Love you," he whispered, dropping a little kiss on the skin beneath his lips.

Heero's hips rocked and squeezed him where they were still joined. "Hai," he replied, eyes closed as he folded his arms and pillowed his head on the hood, not really caring that he'd have to clean and wax the thing all over again now...

 


	7. Mornings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heero & Duo 
> 
> 9 Sep 2001 (Written: July 31, 2001)  
> Standard Disclaimer Applies.

**In the Pale Moonlight Sidefic**

 

One of the first rooms they cleaned out, they took for their own. Fifth floor, apartment 12. They didn't know what it was about the apartment--after all, one was just the same as another--but they'd both agreed to take that one over all the others. It was a six-story building, twelve rooms to a floor. In the center of the building was the elevator; to each end of the hallways was a staircase.

They cleaned out the staircases first and then heading for the top to work themselves down. It took almost a full two weeks to clean out all of the left-over junk from the building, and it was just one out of many on this street--let alone in the district. They'd earned many curious looks, a few of the more bolder people actually approached them to ask what they thought they were doing. Some of the more frightened residents tried to threaten them into leaving.

By the beginning of the third week, they'd managed to gain a group of workers whose payment was food and a clean place to live. They whitewashed all the walls and scrubbed all the floors until the building looked like new, inside and out. Duo hired some local "artists" to decorate the hallways and outside walls.

There wasn't much in way of furnishings, but it was clean and now, it was home--to themselves and currently fifty other "families". Heero--at a loss with old cars-- was actually pretty handy with a hammer. With some help, he was able to fix up some beds, tables, and chairs. Not nearly enough for every room, but it helped. Most 'tenants' were still using boxes for furniture--including Duo and Heero.

Their apartment was no hotel suite, but as first apartments go, the two young men were rather proud of themselves.

 

 

As pre-dawn light began to filter through the sheer-cloth curtain, light, feathery touches ghosting over the smooth stretch of back, idly tracing the crisscrossing pattern of white scars. Face smashed into the pillow beneath him, violet-blue eyes cracked open to blurrily focus upon his bedmate. The creaking fan overhead continued to rock back and forth with the weight of its revolutions, and he could feel the tiny stir of air it created, teasing loose strangled wisps of hair, tickling him. The top sheet was riding low over his hips, hinting to the fact he was wearing absolutely nothing, and seemed quite comfortable with the fact. It also allowed the other plenty of free skin to touch, which he was taking great advantage of.

Duo stretched beneath those feasting, admiring, wonderful fingertips, arching into them with a lazy grin tugging at his lips. When those worshiping touches became more bold, daring to slip beneath the flat sheet and caress one firm buttocks, he gave in and rolled over, pulling Heero with him.

Propped up on his side, his one hand now caught beneath Duo, Heero smiled down at the god of his existence.

"Morning," Duo mumbled as his half-slit eyes did some worshiping of their own.

The dark clumps of rich mocha-colored bangs fell forward in total disregard of any effort of styling, and Duo ached to bury his hands into what he knew to be thick threaded silk. He ached to pull his angel's face close, to shower devoted kisses over those intense blue eyes, over the high cheeks and the pointed little nose-- over those straight lips that curled down into a tiny unconscious frown-- He wanted--

"Morning," Heero replied, his voice equally as soft in the pre-morning shadows. He watched his love, his life, come to wakefulness, eyes drinking in the sight. He hadn't intended on waking Duo up--knowing how the other boy preferred to sleep in late in the mornings, and, in truth, they *had* had a rather late night-- But Heero had always been an early riser and, watching Duo sleep, he couldn't help but touch him. He was always fascinated by the other boy's skin--especially the lithe firmness of muscles and the hap hazardous pattern of scars that only titillated the picture for him.

He remembered the first time he'd seen his lover shirtless. He'd been stunned. Somehow, someway, over the last year he'd know this young man, he'd managed to fail to notice the lacework of scars Duo possessed.

'Pretty ugly, huh?' Duo had remarked, and Heero realized he'd been staring.

Not knowing what else to say, Heero had answered back, 'I've seen worse.' Which was the truth. He only had to look in the mirror.

They never asked each other about their scars. It was the one thing they never discussed. No matter how much they touched, traced, teased, tormented the stark white marks. They never questioned. Heero was grateful.

Duo gave in and slid his fingers through Heero's dark man and tugged. Heero, already leaning over to maintain his grip on Duo's backside, eagerly fell forward into the offered kiss, covering Duo's chest with his body, tasting Duo's smile on his lips and growing heady from the flavor.

Duo, for his part, was feeling all the more better about the early-morning wake-up call. After all, who in their right mind would complain when they had an angel for a lover?

 

 

Duo braved a peek at the outside world. Yep. It was as he feared. Morning.

Groaning--contemplating rolling over and just dipping back down into sleep--he forced his sleep-blurry eyes to focus on the nightstand clock, and groaned again in loader protest.

The bathroom door opened somewhere in the room behind him--bare feet padding along the bare floor, muffling when they reached the thick throw rug near the bed, and then--

"HEY!" Duo cried out, raising his arms to ward of the shower of water drops that rained down over him as Heero shook his head.

"Shower's all yours," the Japanese boy answered, smirking down at his lover.

Duo pouted, eyeing the skimpy white towel wrapped and hanging low over Heero's hips. "I'd rather have you," he replied with a smirk of his own.

Heero leaned over, one thick-muscled arm barring down to either side of Duo's face--careful not to catch any loose strands of the long golden brown hair spilling out all over the pillow. He brushed over Duo's all-too-willing lips before pulling back, his deep blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Later," Heero replied, crossing over to the closet. "We'll be late for work."

Duo blinked, and then sat up, staring after him. "Gah! We're the *bosses*! We *can't* be late!" he protested, watching Heero's back as the other studied the interior of the closet.

"Hurry up and I'll make some breakfast," Heero compromised.

Grumbling, Duo managed to convince his body to get out of bed. Unabashed, he crossed the room, naked.

"Eggs or pancakes?" Heero called after him, pulling a blue tee shirt from the closet.

Duo leaned back out the bathroom, his long hair brushed against the floor. "YES!"

 

 

  1. 479\. 480.



"Heee~ro--" Duo whined from the bed.

  1. 483\. 484.



"It's *Sunday*."

  1. 488\. 489.



"You know? 'On the 7th day he rested?'"

  1. 494\. 495.



"So come back to bed already!"

"500."

Flushed, a light sheen of sweat covering his entire body, Heero sprang up from the floor and pounced on his lover, grinning.

"And what will you give me?"

Duo's surprise lasted only a second before, grinning also, they rolled and he pinned the other teen beneath him.

"A whole different kind of workout," he teased, his braid falling over his shoulder. He leaned in for a kiss. "A much more *enjoyable* one--"

Heero growled, a hand sneaking around Duo's neck and gently squeezing as he 'helped' bring the braided-teen's lips closer. "Is that a promise or a threat?"

"Oh, that's most definitely a promise," Duo replied before proving true to his word.

 

OWARI


	8. Musings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the Pale Moonlight Sidefic  
>  Standard Disclaimer Applies.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Hmm?" Duo looked up from the window he’d been staring out of, looking back at his lover who was studying him instead of the crossword puzzle laid out in front of him. "Oh, well, Wufei, actually," Duo admitted softly, before looking back out the window. "I was just wondering what he’s been up to. You know, what he’s been doing since…"

"Duo…"

"You know, he said he loved me," the long-haired boy rushed on, "and all I could do was think about how much I wanted him to be you."

Heero didn’t know what to say really, but he tried. "When I came back, and saw you two in bed together… I wanted it to be me, too."

"I wished I’d gotten a chance to talk to him, before he left MOII. It’s strange how he just left like that."

Heero had his own thoughts on the matter of MOII. Thoughts that chased themselves around in his head.

"Why did you sleep with him?" The question was directed as much towards himself as to his lover across the room.

Duo started. "What?"

"Why did you sleep with Wufei?" Heero repeated quietly, steadily, frowning mentally. He hadn’t set out to sleep with the Chinese boy. It had just… sort of… happened. They were both lonely, and upset, and not a little drunk…

"Well…" Duo’s voice broke into his thoughts. "I guess, because I was lonely, and upset, and I really didn’t want to be alone." The 02 ex-gundam pilot shrugged.

"Did you like it?"

"What!"

"Did you like sleeping with Wufei?"

"I didn’t *not* like it…" Violet eyes narrowed accusingly. "Hey! What’s this all about, Heero?"

"Nothing," the Japanese boy tried to deny—but there was no fooling his lover, and after a moment, he admitted, "I’ve just been thinking about Wufei, too."

"Oh  **really**?" Heero nodded. "And just what have you been thinking about him?"

Heero studied Duo before answering honestly, "I think about what it would be like… if it was the three of us."

Duo’s frown pulled into a heavy puzzlement. "What do you mean, ‘the three of us’?"

"I mean you, and Wufei, and me." Prussian blues looked directly into violet depths. "Together."

"You mean, like a…" he almost had trouble wrapping his lips around the word "threesome?"

Heero nodded. "Something like that."

Duo looked away, not sure what to make of this confession of his lover’s. Heero thought about a threesome? Duo hadn’t even known Heero was attracted to Wufei, like that… Was he, maybe, tired of Duo? Of all the late night hours and energy he poured into Miramar?

"I think about you and Wufei a lot," Heero’s voice continued on with pseudo calm. " I think about what you two look like, together."

"Really?" Duo was wearing a funny look. Heero nodded.

"Have you ever thought about it?" the Japanese boy asked.

Duo cleared his through. "I can’t say that I have."

"Hn. I guess it’s different."

And there was that puzzling frown again. "What’s different?" Duo asked.

"Seeing two people together in bed already," Heero answered, "as opposed to just imagining it."

"I can’t believe we’re having this discussion," the long-haired boy finally said after a moment, standing up and grabbing his jacket before heading out into the streets.

 

The End


	9. You Were Meant For Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noin & Zechs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 23-Jul-2001  
> Rating: YA/PG-17  
> Warnings: The following story contain scenes that are AU with Incoherence and random POV switching. Original Characters are presented, all characters are IC according to the author's interpretation of them.  
> Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and its characters belong to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency and are only being used for non-profit entertainment purposes.  
> References to printed texts, films, sitcoms, musical pieces, and/or other fanfictions don't belong to the author either. Original Characters, including but not limited too, the Behr Siblings are original and hence, the author's own creation. See Preamble for details.

**In the Pale Moonlight Sidefic**

 

Still half-asleep, the dark-haired woman reached for the screaming alarm clock. Angling up to squint at the glowing red numbers, she groaned, tossing the offending timepiece across the room and crashed back into her mattress.

_I hear the clock; it's six a.m.  
I feel so far from where I've been_

With a groan of resignation, she pushed herself up and out of bed, finger-combing her short, dark hair as she scratched her stomach under the short grey tank top and padded her way across the bed room and into the bath.

 _Got my eggs and my pancakes, too_  
Got my maple syrup, everything but you  
Break the yolks, make a smiley face  
I kinda like it in my brand new place

Fighting off the remnants of sleep, she yanked the frig door open and squinted into the bright, blinding light, searching for her breakfast. Eggs, check. Frozen pancakes, check. Maple syrup, check. Making breakfast was a process achieved on autopilot that finalized with her sitting at the small table staring down into her plate.

For no particular reason, she stabbed the sunny, yellow yolks with her fork and used the yellow glob to make a smiley face on the face of her pancake. Suddenly not hungry, she pushed the plate away.

She crossed through the neat common area, back into her bathroom.

 _I wipe the spots off the mirror_  
Don't leave the keys in the door  
Never put wet towels on the floor anymore 'cause

She stood, staring into the mirror over the sink, not really thinking, not knowing what to do next. Just staring at the face in the mirror. Her dark blue eyes noticed tiny water spots splattered over the reflective surface and swiped at them with a hand towel, dropping the linen into the basket afterwards.

With a sudden burst of restlessness, she decided to get out for a bit, slipping on sweat pants over her high-thigh undies and shoving into a matching sweat jacket before snatching up her keys from the hook near the door.

And then the apartment was empty.

 

 

 _Dreams last so long_  
Even after you're gone  
I know you love me  
And soon you will see  
You were meant for me  
And I was meant for you

 

 

_Call up my momma, she was out for a walk_

The phone rang three times before someone picked up the other line.

"Hello, Miss-a Lucrezia!" the housemaid smiled into the screen. "I'm sorry, Counselor Noin and your father is-a out for a walk-a right now. I will-a tell'em tat you-a callin dem as soon-as-a they be getting back!"

She sighed and told the other woman not to bother.

 _Consoled a cup of coffee but it didn't wanna talk_  
Picked up the paper it was more bad news  
More hearts being broken or people being used

She stood out on her balcony with a cup of coffee, staring out at the pouring rain, wondering if it held the clue. With another sigh, she up-turned the cup over and let the blackened liquid fall to the ground somewhere below.

Setting the cup in the sink, picking up the daily paper, she curled up in a corner of the lone couch, tucking her feet beneath her. She flipped the paper open; eyes skimming over the front page and felt her spirits plummet farther.

'After all the sacrifices...' She stared hopeless at the headlines. 'Haven't they learned yet...?'

Struck by another bout of restlessness, she reached for her raincoat.

_Put on my coat in the pouring rain  
I saw a movie it just wasn't the same_

She must have walked for hours before she found herself in front of an antique-styled movie theater that still showed old film-stripped pictures on a reel. There weren't many other people in the darkened room with her. Around her, the scattered audience laughed and joked, or kissed partners...

_Cause it was happy and I was sad  
It made me miss you oh so bad_

She didn't. She couldn't. And she realized just who incredibly lonely she was.

 

 

 _Dreams last so long_  
Even after you're gone  
I know you love me  
And soon you will see  
You were meant for me  
And I was meant for you

 

 

 _Go about my business_  
I'm doing fine  
Besides what would I say if I had you on the line?

She put the dishes away, folded her laundry, fluffed the pillows on the couch, ran the vacuum. She straightened off her desk, dusted the bookshelf.

_Same old story, not much to say_

All the while, she kept her eye on the phone.

_Hearths are broken every day_

It never rang.

_Brush my teeth and put the cap back on  
I know you hate it when I leave the light on_

She spit out the mouth rinse and palmed the lights off, padding quietly out of the bathroom.

_I pick up a book and then I turn the sheets down  
Take a deep breath and a good look around_

She stared at the lines of book bindings, not really seeing the titles, before pulling one out randomly and setting it down on her night stand. The room was for the most part empty. She hadn't really gotten around to unpacking or decorating the place yet.

 _Put on my pj's and hop into bed_  
I'm half-alive but I feel mostly dead  
I try and tell myself it'll be all right  
I just shouldn't think anymore tonight

She pulled on a new tank top--red, this time--with matching underwear and climbed into bed. She stared at the four walls around her, lost, wondering if they held the answers.

She was listless, too tired to pick up her book. Too tired to turn off the lights.

Maybe she should just try and go to sleep.

But she was too tired to sleep.

 

 

 _Dreams last so long_  
Even after you're gone  
I know you love me  
And soon you will see  
You were meant for me  
And I was meant for you

 

 

Sometime in the Middle of the night, the phone rang.

Wake up.

 

The End


	10. Foolish Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trieze, Zechs, Une, Noin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In The Pale Moonlight Sidefic
> 
>  2-Oct-2001
> 
>  Standard Disclaimer Applies.

 

**Foolish Games**

 

 

_You took your coat off and stood in the rain.  
You were always crazy like that_

"Milliard, come join me!" the older young man called out to the lanky blond who stood under the archway, looking out at him.

"You’re crazy!" the other called back, laughing at the ginger haired man who was standing, arms open to embrace the crying sky.

_I watched from my window  
Always felt I was outside looking in on you_

She pulled away from the second story window, letting the curtains fall back into place, and went to get a warm cup of tea along with some warm, dry clothes for both.

 _You were always the mysterious one_  
With dark eyes and careless hair  
You were fashionably sensitive, but too cool to care

"Would you like to wear your blue uniform today, Master Treize?" she asked, opening his wardrobe.

"No, thank you, Lady," he answered, coming up behind her. He smiled at her and she felt like his eyes could penetrate into her very soul. A wisp of ginger-darkened hair fell against his forehead and he gently brushed her aside. "I can dress myself. You are dismissed."

_Then you stood in my doorway, with nothing to say  
Besides some comment on the weather_

She looked up startled, staring at the reflection of the man standing in the doorway behind her in her dressing mirror.

"Is there something I can help you with, Master Treize?" she asked, knowing her voice was tinged with eager, hopeful breathlessness.

He continued to stare for a moment, before commenting. "I think there will be a storm soon, Lady."

 _Well in case you failed to notice_  
In case you failed to see  
This is my heart bleeding before you  
This is me down on my knees

She smiled, despite, or perhaps because of, the pain ripping through her chest. She fell to her knees, staring at him, the great fool. He thought he had won. The blood began soaking through her flight suit; dizziness swept over her; she fell.

 _And these foolish games are tearing me apart_  
Your thoughtless words are breaking my heart  
You’re breaking my heart

_You were always brilliant in the morning  
Smoking your cigarettes, talking over coffee_

He stood standing in front of the large estate window in his dark pants and light-skinned shirt. The morning sun glinted off the windowpanes and caught the radiant highlights of his ginger hair.

"Today is going to be a good day for us, Lady," he told her.

"Yes, Master Treize."

 _Your philosophies on art, Baroque moved you_  
You loved Mozart and you’d speak of your loved ones  
As I clumsily strummed my guitar

"Theophilas didn’t know what he was doing!" he argued. "Now, Monet, on the other hand—"

"Monet is an ancient fool whose art should be buried," the other younger man replied.

"*This* from a man who thinks Baroque is for fools."

"Now, I never said that, Treize. There you go putting words in my mouth, again."

Treize walked over to the sound system. "Mozart?"

"Are you going to challenge me to another duel if I suggest Beethoven?" the blond man asked, grinning.

"Probably."

"Mozart it is, then."

 _You’d teach me of honest things_  
Things that were daring, thing that were clean  
Thing that knew what an honest dollar did mean

"I envy those men," he mentioned casually as their transportation moved through the countryside.

She looked out the window to see what he was talking about, and frowned. "They are field hands, Master Treize."

"Ah, yes, and around them the whole world revolves." He smiled. "Everyday, they come out to these fields and tend to them. Every night, they return home to their families. Their labor feeds the world, Lady. They are not rich. They do not drive fancy vehicles. They are simple people who understand what it means to be happy."

She continued to frown, but looked back out the window at the people in the field.

 _So I hid my soiled hands behind my back_  
Somewhere along the line I must’ve gone off track with you  
Excuse me, think I’ve mistaken you for somebody else  
Somebody you gave a damn  
Somebody more like myself

"Be more gentle, Lady."

 _And these foolish games are tearing me apart_  
Your thoughtless words are breaking my heart  
You’re breaking my heart

_You took your coat off and stood in the rain  
You were always like that._

 

 

As the last notes gave way to silence, everyone in the darkened room stared up at the woman on the rickety stage simply sitting there on the stool, the deadened microphone resting in her lap. All at once, the room erupted into catcalls and applause. Sally worked her way up to the stage, Noin somewhere behind her, anxious to reach Anne. Gripping her around the arm and pulling her off the stage, down into the throes of the crowd, she shouted to the other woman, "Damn, Anne! I didn’t know you could sing like that!"

Une made no reply as they made their way back to their table for another drink.

 

The End

 

 


	11. Wake Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zechs doesn't want to wake up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10-Oct-2001
> 
> Rating: YA/PG-17  
> Pairings (Eventually or Implied): 6+9, 6+13
> 
> Songfic: "Wake Up" Alanis Morissette
> 
> Acknowledgements go out to four wonderful people who are doing a wonderful job keeping me on track: KwyckSylver for grammar and story beta-ing; Lilie the mouse and Alexia for hitting the storyboards with me and pounding out the knots; and Zan-who's never missed a serving. ^_~v Thanks, ladies!
> 
>  Standard Disclaimer Applies.

 

**Wake Up by Andrea Readwolf**

**In The Pale Moonlight Sidefic**

 

_~You like snow but only if it's warm~_

The toddler laughed, rushing out into the snow. "Pretty! Pretty!" she cried, waving her hands out wide and twirling in drifting snowflakes.

He laughed and chased after her. "Wait up, 'Lena!"

"I'm a snow angel!" she laughed at him."

_~You like rain but only if it's dry~_

"Come out of that rain this isn't! Look at you! You're a mess! What would your mother say if she saw-"

"Mother wouldn't care!" the boy cried. "Mother liked playing in the rain, too!"

_~No sentimental value to the rose that fell on your floor~_

His thumb brushed the velvety edges of the rose. 'So perfect,' he thought before his fist closed around the delicate bloom, crushing the petal. 'Even in death...' The red velvety petals slipped between his fingers and fell at his feet.

_~No fundamental excuse for the granted I'm taken for~_

"Zechs, will you..."

"Of course..."

_~'Cause it's easy not to~  
~So much easier not to~_

"Why the hell not?!"

"Because I said so, that's why!"

"Will you be *reasonable*?"

"*No*, I *won't*!"

~And what goes around never comes around to you~

"Why's he so special, huh?" He didn't answer. "Listen, Zechs, don't get too caught up in something you can't handle, alright? I mean, I might not always be there to cover your ass."

She turned to leave.

"Noin?"

She turned back.

"Thank you," he whispered. She smiled.

_~You like pain but only if it doesn't hurt too much~_

He screamed, his muscles flexing in agony, his arms and legs pulling at the shackles until the electro-rod was pulled back. His body slumped back against the chains.

_~You sit... and you wait... to receive~_

The nine-year-old sat under the tree, waiting, watching as the sun started to sink lower in the West.

"Sorry I'm late!" the dark haired girl panted, running up to him. "Here! This is for you!"

"What is it?" he asked, staring at the small box in her hand.

She giggles. "It's a present, silly! Open up and see!"

_~There's an obvious attraction  
To the path of least resistance in your life~_

The circle of children laughed and shouted insults as they pushed the smaller boy around. He stumbled, they let him fall to the dirt, and then they kicked him for good measure, laughing as they turned away.

_~There's an obvious aversion no amount of my insistence could make you try tonight~_

"Zechs, *please*!"

"Noin, no."

"You'll never pass if you don't learn this!"

"Don't worry about me so much. You should worry about yourself; that's the only person you can ever count on in this world."

"Don't say that. Don't every say that. Not to me." She glared at him. "You can *always* count on me, Milliard Peacecraft."

"Don't call me that."

"Then don't give up on me."

"Who said anything about giving up? I'm just taking a break." He smiled at her.

_~Cause it's easy not to~ ~So much easier not to~_

"Pretty boy! Pretty boy!" they taunted, kicking him. Screaming and shouting over him as he tried to curl into a ball and protect his sensitive stomach, hands and arms thrown up over and around his head and skull.

_~And what goes around never comes around to you ~  
~To you to you to you to you to you... ~_

"Are you going home for vacation?"

"No."

"Why not."

"...."

"Zechs... you're always welcome to come home with me, you know that right? I mean, Mom and Dad would love to have another kid in the house..."

"Thanks, Noin, but I think I'd rather just stay here..."

"Suit yourself, but if you change your mind, here's the address." She winked at him, slugging her backs over her shoulders and heading out the door.

_~There's no love_

He looked up, stunned that the older boy was standing so close to him. "My name is Treize Khushrenada," he heard him say before watching him bow. He looked on, stunned when the older boy took his hand and kissed it.

_~ no money ~_

Credits dropped onto the card table. "What are we playing for tonight, boys?"

"Losers have to play against you tomorrow in the games, Zechs!" The others all laughed. He smiled at them.

"I promise to go easy on you all," he said. They laughed harder.

_~no thrill anymore~_

Top Scores:  
Piloting: Zechs Marquise  
Armourments: Zechs Marquise  
Dueling: Zechs Marquise  
.  
.  
.

_~There's an apprehensive naked little trembling boy  
~With his head in his hands~_

He was trembling in the bushes, hiding his face in his knees, his arms and hands covering his head, as if that could prevent the fires engulfing his home from consuming him, too.

_~There's an underestimated and impatient little girl  
Raising her hand~_

"Hell~o!" she cried sarcastically, waving her hand in front of his face. "Are you listening to me?"

He smiled, blinking out of his haze. "No," he grinned. "It's not like you say anything worth listening to anyway."

She humphfed and sat back against her seat.

_~But it's easy not to~  
~So much easier not to~_

'Let her rule Sanq,' he thought. 'Her hands are less tarnished by blood. She's more worthy of ruling this peaceful nation than I.' He looked up at the painting on the wall, studying the feature of a face he'd almost completely forgotten in his years away. 'Father, forgive me.'

_~And what goes around never comes around to you  
To you, to you~_

'Treize is dead... now it's my turn. To end it. To end it all. I'll be with you soon...'

He pushed Wing ZERO out of the way and punched the self-destruct on Epyon. 'How fitting, that I should use your gift, Trieze, to follow after you...'

_~Get up get up get up off of it~_

Crystaline blue eyes blink open.

A door swings open and bangs shut again.

_~Get up get up get up off of it~_

He sits up.

Curtains are pushed aside briskly.

_~Get out get outta here enough already~_

Crystaline blue eyes blink open.

Sunlight pours into a darkened room, chasing away the shadows.

_~Get up get up get up off of it~_

He sits up.

Windows are unlocked and pushed open, letting a soft breeze and the sound of chirping birds in.

_~Wake up. ~_

Milliard wakes up.

 

The End

Andrea Readwolf

 


	12. You Learn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trowa has learned a lot in his young years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 14-Oct-2001
> 
> Acknowledgements go out to Trixie and Amuse_g who are still out there reading this. Thanks!
> 
>  Standard Disclaimer Applies.
> 
>  

 

**You Learn by Andrea Readwolf**

**In the Pale Moonlight Sidefic**

 

~Trowa's POV~

_I recommend getting your heart trampled on to anyone_

{He walked down the street; never touching another soul, chin to his chest, bangs plastered to his face, hands shoved into the tight jeans that clung to his legs. He didn't feel the cold drizzle that rained down over him. He was too numb to feel anything.}

_I recommend walking around naked in your living room_

{Rolling over and out of bed, he stumbled across the small living space in his trailer, draped only in the florescent glow of a street light outside his window. He navigated his way over to the sink and poured himself a glass of metallic-tasting tap water, gulping it down in one shot, his Adam's apple bobbling rapidly. He fell over the sink, crossing his arms over the metal basin, resting his head against his arms, gasping in great pants of breath.}

_Swallow it down (what a jagged little pill)  
It feels so good (swimming in your stomach)_

{Gulps. Gasps. Hot steam rushes into his nose and lungs, making him feel heavy and light at once. He falls forward, leaning his forehead against the cool, wet tile of the shower. He was oblivious to his tears.}

 

 

_You live you learn_

{"Live it up, kid," the tall, golden man told him, tossing him a coin as he finished buttoning his pants. The man didn't look back at the boy he'd left alone on the rumpled sheets.}

_You love you learn_

{His body arched, reaching, receiving, singing. Above him, the other boy was panting, sweat dripping from his golden bangs, splashing onto his chest. "Love you," the other boy whispered, curling his surprisingly strong arms around him.}

_You cry you learn_

{He hid behind the lion cages, huddled into a tight, little ball, shaking with the wrath of his crying fit.}

_You lose you learn_

{He folded his hand, dropping the cards on the overturned crate.}

_You bleed you learn_

{For no reason he could explain, he took one of his blades and pulled the edge over his arm, watching the dark, rich blood well up from the cut.}

_You scream you learn_

{Screams}

 

 

_I recommend biting off more than you can chew to anyone  
I certainly do_

{Explosions were going off to either side of him. His own suit was loosing ground, and fast. "There's too many of them!" someone screamed over the comm. "We have to retreat!" "This was a trap!" another shouted back. "Everyone, pull back!"}

_I recommend sticking you foot in your mouth at any time  
Feel free_

{"It was just sex." he told the other boy.}

_Throw it down (the caution blocks you from the wind)  
Hold it up (to the rays)_

{In a rage, he flung his arms across the table surface, shoving everything onto the floor. He stood, looking down over it, panting, fists balled at his sides.}

_You wait and see when the smoke clears_

{The smoke cleared and the shiny red gundam stepped forward, guns cocked, missiles already airborn, streaking more trails of smoke behind them.}

 

 

_You live you learn_

{"People will be sad if you die!" the girl screamed at him, unafraid of the powerful weapon of war that encased him. "Cathy..."}

_You love you learn_

{He wanted to protect the other boy.Even though the other boy was completely capable of protecting himself.}

_You cry you learn_

{He stared at his screen, watching as the noble black suit crumbled into star dust. Something twinkling closer by caught his attention and his eyes refocused. "My. tears."}

_You lose you learn_

{He moved his suit away from the others, one eye carefully watching his instruments, silently ticking down the seconds until the mobile suit would destruct. So this was going to be the end.}

_You bleed you learn_

{The dagger was a centimeter off target, slashing white-hot fire across his cheek before embedding itself into the backboard. A red trinkle of blood teased a path down to his chin.}

_You scream you learn_

{Screams}

 

 

_Wear it out (the way a three-year-old would do)_

{The wall shook with each bang of the bed. The old springs squeaked in harsh protest.}

_Melt it down (you're gonna have to eventually anyway)_

{His head flew back in a silent scream, his entire body tensing as he shot forth his release. Tiny kisses trailed over his lips and cheek, to his ear. "Love you," the other boy whispered, pressing their sticky bodies inhumanly close.}

_The fire trucks are coming up around the bend_

{"Would you ever want to be a fireman? Saving people's lives and all?" Duo asked casually, watching a bright red fire engine screaming past. "I mean, if you weren't already a clown or gundam pilot, of course!"}

 

 

_You live you learn_

{"Ah! This is living!" the braided boy exclaimed, leaning back in one of the lawn chairs and sipping from his iced tea.}

_You love you learn_

{The blond boy dropped a kiss on his nose before pushing up off of him. "Hungry? What would you like for breakfast?" "Whatever you want." The other boy grinned and leaned forward again. "But all I want is *you*."}

_You cry you learn_

{He curled up into a little ball around his pillow, hiding his face in the cinnamon-and-apple scented cloth, allowing it to soak up all the forbidden tears.}

_You lose you learn_

{He went back, after waiting at the rendezvous point for two days with no one else showing up. He went back to the battlefield and counted the bodies of the dead.}

_You bleed you learn_

{Some of them wanted more from him than just a quick, easy, good fuck. Those were the nights Carter spent, patching him back up.}

_You scream you learn_

{Screams}

 

 

_You grieve you learn_

{He let the rain pour on around him as his shoulders shook with tears.}

_You choke you learn_

{Gasping for breath, he came to consciousness.}

_You laugh you learn_

{"Dying hurts like hell," the mocha-colored boy told him. He couldn't help himself; he laughed.}

_You choose you learn_

{"There's an extra room.if you want it," the smaller boy offered shyly. "Or. or you could, stay here, with me."}

_You pray you learn_

{Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please}

_You ask you learn_

{He reached out, hesitantly, to touch the other boy. "May I.?"}

_You live you learn_

{"Of course, Trowa." Quatre sighed, melting into the touch.}

 

The End

Andrea Readwolf

 


	13. Space Cowboy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duo loved music...and dancing... and singing...and Heero.   
> Heero loved Duo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  15-Aug-2001
> 
>  Standard Disclaimer Applies.
> 
>  

**Space Cowboy by Andrea Readwolf**

**In The Pale Moonlight Sidefic**

 

Duo Maxwell *loved* music. This was a well-known fact. And the boy's love of music was a diverse as the cultures that ran through the American heritage of L2--and believe you me, L2 is like a mirco-earth, with just about every nationality living there. Given the right mood, Duo could listen to, and like, just about any piece of music. Things got a little weird around the apartment though when the longhaired boy was in a folk-song rage--but those were just one of the little quirks about his lover that Heero was learning to understand.

Like... the fact that the right song could turn Duo on.

You see, Heero had a plan.

There was this one song that Duo absolutely *loved* above all others. Combine that, with a little karaoke--another one of Duo's most favorite things--and a little... strip tease....

Oh, yeah. Heero had a plan.

Duo was out late that night--he stayed over with the volunteer teachers to help tutor some of the kids. When he finally made his way back upstairs to 5*12 he was tired and hungry--and not necessarily in that order.

"Heero?" he called into the apartment, bee-lining it straight for the kitchen. "Heero-man, you should've been there tonight! Avory put me to *shame* in the spelling bee. And Brice finally got up to his 9 times tables!" He reached in the fridge for some of the left over linguini marinara and a beer before he noticed the note taped to the bowl.

_'In the bedroom'_

Duo grinned. 'Aaah...' He kicked off his shoes back near the front door and padded his way into the bedroom. It was empty. 'Hn.' Except for a note left on the pillow. "Hmm..."

_'Press Play'_

Duo looked behind him towards the media center, and he grinned. Sure enough, the was another note.

_'And get Relax_

  1. _Don't laugh'_



Duo had to swallow a laugh right then and there. Just *what* did Heero have in mind...? Something told him he was going to enjoy it... He hit play and jumped back onto the bed. The first few beats of a drum sounded off as Duo twisted around, settling his back against the wall, grinning and waiting.

'Oooh... good song...'

 _~*~Some people call me the space cowboy, yeah. Some call me the gangster of_  
love. Some people call me Maurice, cause I speak of the pomatums of love.   
~*~

Duo was wired. When the bathroom door finally opened to reveal Heero in a pair of tight, tight jeans and a painted on tee... Duo was more than just wired.

Possessing a grace and a rhythm that Duo didn't know he possessed, Heero began sling along with the music, moving to the beat.

Duo couldn't help it--he laughed. But that *good* kinda laugh. The one where you're having such a great time you laugh with the joy of it all!

 _~*~ People talk about me, baby; say I'm doing you wrong, doing ya wrong but_  
don't you baby, don't worry, cause I'm right here, right here, right-y-right   
home. ~*~

Heero was close to the bed now, dancing and grinding his hips for the boy on the bed.

_~*~ Cause I'm a picker, I'm a grinner, I'm a lover, I'm a sinner. I play my  
music in the sun. ~*~_

Duo couldn't stop himself--he had to reach out and touch.

Mmm... and touch some more... and sing along under his breath...

_~*~ I'm a joker, I'm a smoker, I'm a midnight toker, I get my loving on the  
run. ~*~_

Duo pulled Heero back onto the bed with him.

_~*~ Whoohoohooooo... ~*~_

Heero cried out in surprise, laughing now, too.

_~*~ You're the cutest thing that I ever did see. ~*~_

Duo lip-synched to Heero, hovering over the Japanese boy with a feral look.

_~*~ I really love your *peaches* wanna shake your tree. ~*~_

Heero's hand slid over Duo's crotch, lightly squeezing.

_~*~ Lovey-dovey-lovey-dovey all the ti~ime. Oohee baby, I'll sure show you  
a good time. ~*~_

They rolled, and suddenly Heero was on top.

_~*~ cause I'm a picker, I'm a grinner, I'm a lover, I'm a sinner. I play my  
music in the sun. ~*~_

They were kissing. Laughing, singing, and kissing into each other's mouths.

_~*~ I'm a joker, I'm a smoker, I'm a midnight toker, I get my loving on the  
run. ~*~_

Duo was tugging Heero's shirt off. Heero's fingers were flying over Duo's   
buttons.

_~*~ People keep talking about my baby, ~*~_

Jeans went soaring across the room, hitting the wall, and puddling to the   
floor.

_~*~ say I'm doing ya wrong-on-ong. ~*~_

"Mmm...! Heero! So good...!"

_~*~ But don't you worry, don't you worry, don't you worry, Mamma. Cause  
I'm right here at home. ~*~_

"Duo--!"

_~*~ You're the cutest thing I ever did see. Really like your peaches wanna  
shake yer tree... lovey-dovey-lovey-dovey all the time... ~*~_

"Mmm... you have this set on repeat?"

"Mmhmm."

"Good."

 

~~~OWARI~~~

Andrea Readwolf

 


	14. Tellurium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a secret room inside the Raberba's ancestral home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20-Oct-2001
> 
>  Standard Disclaimer Applies.

**Tellurium by Andrea Readwolf**

**In the Pale Moonlight Sidefic**

 

 

The blonde young woman led Quatre through the estate like one accustomed to the many corridors and turns. He followed, the loud throbbing of his space heart vibrating the very air around them.

"Where are we going?" he asked after what seemed like hours.

She turned a corner but didn't answer.

'Our legacy' she had told him. He wondered what she meant. 'The life stone of the Raberbas.' What riddles was she playing him with?

Blaire stopped suddenly, having come to the end off the hallway they were in and an opening into another one. Quatre looked around her and noticed the large ornate door at the end of the short corridor.

"Go in," she ordered, stepping aside to allow him passage. He looked at her, but her face was blank.

He took a deep breath, to reassure himself more than anything, and then moved passed her. He stood before the door, staring at it for several minutes.

It was a good eight feet tall, maybe ten or more. Rashid could pass through it easily, he thought. Across, it was another eight feet, he guessed. Such a large door-and it *shone*. Despite the darkness of the hallway, the door still glowed.

He reached out to touch it.

The door moved before his fingers even grazed it, breaking down the center into two doors and opening in for him.

Quatre started, his breaths coming quickly, his heart was racing. He stepped through. into total darkness.

The doors closed behind him.

Tingles raced up and down his body, every nerve standing on edge; he whirled around, facing the closed doors with wide eyes, but he couldn't see anything.

"Hello.?" he hesitated, his voice trembling.

"Why are you here?"

Quatre startled, turning around in the darkness, trying to locate where the voice had come from. But it didn't speak again.

"My name is Quatre," he said, stepping forward into the darkness. "I'm sorry if I'm intruding."

The room must be huge, he thought. He hadn't walked into anything, but his voice seemed to travel no farther than his lips.

And then he cried out in surprise, squinting against the sudden glare of sunshine. Children's gay laughter and the patter of small, running feet echoed in the corridors around him. Quatre stared at his surroundings, startled to find himself back at the foyer entrance… only... different.

The tiles lining the floor were polished to a bright luster, and the walls around him were gleaming. This was not the same foyer he'd entered. This entrance looked in prime condition.

"Give up, Kiell!" a girl's voice shouted before she came barreling around the corner, long blonde hair streaming out behind her like a banner. She halted her headlong flight dead in her tracks, those lively curls rushing forward to fall back against her shoulders. Wide sea-blue eyes stared up at him, filled with shock.

"NEVER!" a boy's voice laughed, taking the same corner seconds later, and almost running the stunned girl over. "Caught ya-" Arms wrapped around the girl's middle, pulling her back and into a semi-twirl before the boy noticed Quatre.

Instantly, he dropped the girl back onto her feet and turned to him, placing his body between Quatre and the girl.

"Who are you?" the boy asked, glaring at the stranger.

"Excuse me," Quatre began, a bit taken back. "I-"

"Kiell!" the girl hissed, tugging on the boy's shirt. "*Look* at *him*."

"My name is Quatre, and I-"

Both children gasped and took an involuntary step away from him.

Quatre frowned. "Perhaps you can help me? I seem to be lost."

Both children nodded. Quatre looked from one child to the other. Something was. odd. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. He would guess that the two were about the same age, and they looked strikingly similar enough to be siblings. But.

"May I ask your names?" he asked, bending his knees so he was more at their level.

The two pulled a hand's spread apart and stood up straight and proud before him. Quatre recognized the move instantly as one that had been ingrained upon himself at an early age. These children were of the aristocracy.

"I am called Kiell," the boy answered, adding a small nod of greeting.

"And I," the girl said, offering him a smile, "am Quatrina."

Quatre started again, but quickly recovered. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Kiell, Q-Quatrina," he said pleasantly. "Will you be so kind as to tell me where I am?"

The children frowned at him.

"Don't you-"

"Know where-"

"You are?" they asked.

"After all-"

"You're-"

"Here."

Quatre was frowning, too. "Well, I was visiting the Raberba Family Estate, and then I entered this one room, and suddenly, I was here," he tried to explain.

The children looked at each other with wide eyes and then looked back at him.

"Then you *are*--"

"A Raberba."

"Are you-"

"*The* Raberba?"

"I-I don't know," Quatre stumbled. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean by '*the* Raberba'."

The boy frowned at him. "You don't know if you're a Raberba or not?"

The girl tugged on his arm. "He *has* to be, Ki," she hissed.

"Well, there's only one way to find out," the boy announced.

The girl's eyes went wide. "You *know* what Daddy said the last time we went into the Crystal's room without permission!"

"We have him," Kiell told her, jerking his thumb at Quatre.

"But I can't *feel* him," Quatrina whispered, leaning in close to the boy.

The blond boy stared at Quatre, squinting. "You're right. "

"Then he's not really here!"

"But we can see him!"

"It doesn't make sense!"

"The only way we could see him, is-"

Again, the children were looking at each other with wide eyes. Quatre was utterly confused by the rapid exchange between the two, and what was worse, his head was beginning to pound with a terrible headache.

"Quatre.?"

He looked up at his name, meeting the girl's large blue eyes.

"How old are you?"

"I'm sixteen," he told them. "How old are you?"

"Eleven," the girl answered promptly.

He looked towards the boy who just grinned at him and said, "Nine minutes older than *her*."

Twins!

"Quatre.?" The girl caught his attention again. "I know this might sound a little. strange. but, what's the date?"

She was right. That did sound a little strange. What child didn't know it was two days away from Christmas? "December 23," he answered anyway.

"And the year?" she pressed, shooting a look towards her brother.

Quatre frowned. "196 After Colony."

The girl gasped; the boy straightened. One or the other reached for a hand, tangling their fingers together for support and comfort.

"We will show you the way back to the Crystal's room," Kiell said, turning half away.

"Thank you," Quatre replied, standing to follow them.

"Tell me. Quatre," the girl said, smiling at him. "How are your parents?"

"Well, I pray," he said, following the pair.

"You don't know?" the boy sounded curious.

"They are dead," Quatre explained.

"Dead?" The girl stopped, turning to face him. The hand clasped to her brother's prevented him from moving on as well.

Quatre nodded.

"When. did this happen?" she asked hesitantly.

"Trina," her brother warned.

"Well, my father. died during the war last year," Quatre answered, surprised that he didn't feel any pain or anger anymore at the man.

"He-he died bravely, then," Kiell affirmed with a proud nod.

Quatre only felt sadness he realized. "No. He refused to fight, to defend himself." Quatre looked away. "There was no honor in his death."

"He refused to fight?" Kiell frowned at him, and Quatre couldn't help but smile at the boy.

"My father was a pacifist-"

"Impossible!"

"It's the truth," Quatre laughed. "All Winners are pacifists," he explained.

"Winners! The Winners are cowards!" the girl snapped.

"No," Quatre defended, "They just live by different ideals." He looked away again. "I love peace as much as anyone, I would hope, but I am not a pacifist. I cannot just stand by while others are suffering and do nothing to help them." He looked down. "My father and I fought over it, before I left."

"You. left?" the girl queried gently.

Quatre nodded and smiled at her. "Yes. I went off to fight in the war my father was so against. I don't think he was very happy with me. No, I *know* he wasn't happy with me."

"You fought."

"But you're a kid!"

Quatre's chin notched a bit. "I was fourteen when I left. I was young, but I wasn't a child."

The girl's face wrinkled in a frown. "I can't imagine fighting in a war."

"You said. your. father, died?" Kiell asked, turning away and pulling his sister along with him. "And he was a Winner?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"What about your mother?" the boy continued. "She is dead as well?"

"Yes," Quatre answered. "She died when I was just a baby."

"I'm. I'm sorry to hear that," the girl whispered.

"We are here," the boy said, pulling up short at the end of a hallway.

Quatre looked, and sure enough, there was the door from before again. "Thank you for showing me the way."

"Thank you," the girl said, "for visiting us. We are honored."

The boy stepped forward and held out his hand towards Quatre. "You are a brave man. I am proud to know you are a Raberba."

Quatre clasped hands with the boy. "It was a pleasure," he replied. "Thank you."

The girl pressed forward, nudging her brother aside. She raised up on her tip-toes to place a kiss on Quatre's cheek. "I'm sure your mother and father are very proud of you and love you very much," she told him.

"Thank you," Quatre answered, at a loss as what else to say. He turned away, to face the door.

It was already opening for him.

"Don't worry," Kiell called after him.

"I am sure we will meet again, Quatre Raberba Winner!" Quatrina added.

The darkness enfolded him.

 

 

"Why are you here?"

"I don't know," Quatre answered, turning in the darkness.

"Don't tempt me," a woman laughed.

Quatre turned and realized he was in a bedroom.

"I think you're *crazy*, Trina," another young woman answered.

The first woman laughed. "I think you're right!"

Quatrina was sitting at an ornate vanity, arranging her long, sunray-bright golden hair with a string of blue turquoise shells set in silver dolphins and starfish. Her white and sky-blue robes were much like the ones Quatre wore.

"Then *why* are you going through with this, Trina?" the other woman cried, coming off the bed and squeezing her friend's shoulders.

"Amaria." Trina sighed, reaching up to clasp her friend's hands. She looked straight in the mirror. Quatre gasped when those startling sea-blue eyes met and held his. "My reasons are ones you could not understand at this time."

There was a knock at the door. Trina and Quatre looked away as the door opened and a dark haired six-year old boy came running in, latching on to the two woman.

Girls, really, Quatre realized. They looked and sounded older, but he didn' t think they could be much older than himself.

"Ria! Trina!" the boy cried. "Kiell and your father sent me to tell you it 's time!"

Quatrina pulled away from her friend and smiled down at the boy, placing a gentle hand on the dark head. "Thank you, Rashid. Please tell them I will be there shortly."

The boy raced off. Quatre almost followed him. Rashid.?

"You are lucky to have such an adorable brother," Trina said, smiling back at her friend.

"I'd rather have *yours*," the dark-haired girl teased. And then she sighed. "Really, I don't know who is more upset about you marrying Winner. Kiell, Rashid, or me."

Quatrina Raberba turned around on her stool, her hands holding her friend's in her lap. "Amaria." She smiled, a little bit sadly. "I won't stay away forever. I couldn't. The Sands are too much a part of me for me to stay amongst the stars forever."

"I know." The dark-haired girl looked pitiful, crushed. She thought she was losing her best friend, Quatre realized.

"Why don't you go on ahead," Trina suggested. "I'll be with you in a moment."

"If you're-"

"Yes, please," the blonde woman smiled, watching as her friend left, clicking the door shut behind her. "You have some timing."

Quatre started, unaware there was anyone else in the room. "Excuse me?"

She stood and fluffed at her robes around her, settling them in a more pleasing fashion to her tastes. "Well?" she asked, looking directly at him. "How do I look?"

Quatre stared for a moment, before an adoring smile crept over his face. "Like a goddess," he answered.

She laughed and turned back to her mirror. "Thank you. It's always good luck to compliment the bride on her wedding day, and I think that's just about the best compliment I'll receive today."

"You're getting married?" He didn't know why he was surprised.

Her reflection smiled at him as she applied some gloss to her rosé lips. "That's the idea, yes," she teased.

Quatre frowned, realizing something. "You know who I am."

She turned and smiled at him. "Yes, Quatre. I know exactly who you are. Do you?"

"I-"

A knock on the door interrupted him.

"Trin.?"

"Ki.?"

The two siblings meet each other and then turned towards Quatre. Kiell looked back at his sister. "Are you sure about this?"

Quatrina smiled and reached up to hugged her brother close. "Yes. I will be fine."

Kiell didn't want to let go. "If he ever hurts you."

"Shh." his sister hushed him, placing a finger against his lips. "He won' t."

Kiell finally nodded and released her. "You have returned," he said turning towards Quatre.

 "Hello," Quatre replied, nodding his head in a small greeting.

Kiell grinned and reached over and clasped hands with the other teen. "I spoke to your son the other day. A fine man he is."

"Uh," Quatre almost pulled away. "That's good. I . wasn't aware I had a son."

"Kiell, stop teasing him," his sister admonished, playfully shoving her brother aside. "It's obvious he hasn't learned of the crystal yet."

"The crystal?" Yes. the crystal. Hadn't Blaire mentioned something about a crystal?

"Why are you here?"

Quatre looked up, startled. He was in another room, a. covered patio of sorts, with palm trees and flowering bushes in pots. The woman-a little older than just a moment ago-was staring at him, smiling.

"It's a question we all must ask ourselves," she said twirling the ice cubes in her glass of iced tea with a long straw.

Quatre turned towards her, where she sat at a glass table. She motioned to one of the chairs that was pushed slightly away from the table. He sat.

"I have been married for six years," she continued, staring off into the surrounding bushes. "I am a mother *eight* times over, and there are two more on the way."

She looked at him, removing her hand from the condensing glass to her lap. "I ask myself that question, every day. 'Why am I here?'" She smiled. "Once you know the answer, the road before you becomes clear."

"I don't know the answer," Quatre said, apologetically.

"Yes, you do."

Quatre turned around, to find himself standing again, in another room.

"The answer is inside of you," Kiell said. "You have only to realize it." The blond man aimed his pool stick towards the little white ball. "Right pocket," he called before shooting. The black ball sank as predicted.

Kiell turned towards Quatre, smiling at the young man. " 'Why am I here?'" He set the stick aside. "Have you ever asked yourself that question?" He approached him. "What is my purpose?"

"I'm-I'm not sure," Quatre replied, taking a step back.

"What would you guess then?"

He turned again. Quatrina stood in her nightdress, standing in a nursery. There were two beds and three cribs in the room. She looked over to him. "Sometimes, I think it is to be a pseudo-mother to these girls. Nineteen." She turned away from him. "Nineteen daughters and he's not satisfied."

"Sometimes." Quatre turned and saw Kiell standing in a study window, looking out. "Sometimes I think I am here merely to fill an empty space."

"Sometimes," Quatrina said, staring out of a colony port window. "I think I am here merely to influence someone's life. A smile or a kind word."

"Sometimes," Kiell said, standing on a desert dune, squinting into the sunlight. "I think it's just to be a friend and supporter."

"Sometimes," Quatrina whispered, holding her sobbing dark-haired friend. "I think there is no reason, and I feel helpless."

"And sometimes," Kiell whispered, staring at the infant in his arms, "I think it is to help be part of a miracle."

"But no matter what-"

"No matter what-"

Kiell and Quatrina Raberba stood before him in the darkness, staring at him.

"I am always sure of one thing," they said in unison.

"I am here to protect-"

"-To protect the innocent-"

"-And those who cannot fight-"

"-Cannot fight for themselves."

They stood to either side of him. "That is the reason the Raberba exists."

"That is the purpose in life for the Raberba."

~~~ "I love peace as much as anyone, I would hope, but I am not a pacifist. I cannot just stand by while others are suffering and do nothing to help them."~~~

The words floated on the air, stretched out between them, pulling at him.

"Why are you here, Quatre Raberba Winner?"

"Because." His head hurt; everything seemed to be swimming before him, around him, suffocating him, drowning him.

~~~I went off to fight in the war. I couldn't stand by while others were suffering.~~~

"What is your purpose, Quatre?"

"To. protect." Quatre gasped.

And then he heard it-the loud pulsating throb of a heartbeat.

"What is it?" he asked, staring into the darkness around him.

"It is the life stone of the Raberbas," a woman answered.

"The Tellurium Crystal," a man identified.

"The life stone…?"

A light glowed in the darkness, pulsating with the throb. Quatre went to it. It looked like a tiny golf ball, but it was clear... and… glowed bright amber.

"The spiritual image of every Raberba who has ever lived," Quatrina began.

"-Has touched this stone," Kiell finished. The three of them stood around the pillar in the center of the darkness, staring at the stone that sat on a blue velvet pillow. "Some say it is the power of the Raberbas."

"But it isn't," Quatrina continued. "It is only a representation of that which cannot be understood." She moved behind Quatre and wrapped her arms around him, covering his chest with her hands. "The true power rests here."

"It is our Spirit," Kiell said, moving before him. "Our desire to protect those we love."

"Our willingness to love those we've never even met before," Quatrina added, resting her chin on Quatre's shoulder.

Kiell held Quatre's shoulders, staring down into his face. "Its power does not die just because our bodies do."

"I have waited a lifetime to say 'hello' to you," she whispered, hugging him tightly to her.

Quatre's eyes shut tight and he took in a deep breath. "Mother."

 

The End

Andrea Readwolf

 


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